Inherited
by SUVictorum
Summary: They say a man is as dangerous as his secrets, and Galbatorix was the most dangerous of them all. Set ten years after Inheritance, this epic fantasy continues the journey of your old favourite characters. The Queen made a promise to the Rider, but can they overcome fate? Love shall be tested. Swords shall be drawn. Secrets shall be discovered. Until redemption…
1. Prologue - Fate Set In Stone

Author's Note: Join me on this epic fantasy told on a scale never before seen in the Inheritance Cycle. Christopher Paolini left behind such a rich world and story that the potential to continue this epic tale is limitless. After reading much fan-fiction I wanted to create something different, so don't expect this story to tie up all the loose ends so conveniently. The romance will be handled with subtlety and not forced like many of the other fan fiction tales. In addition this story will explore themes of war, family, politics, adventure, and much more.

For now expect the chapters to be uploaded every Sunday.

Enjoy the Prologue.

 **Update for 17/1/2017 - This prologue now includes a scene from Eragon's perspective, which shines light on the emotions he is feeling during the present time of this story.** **Since this story is epic it is only fitting that we have two prologues.** **The next chapter to be added to this story will be from Arya's perspective, and will be updated in a couple days time.**

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Prologue - Fate Set In Stone

I - Eragon

 **8003 AC - Two Years After Galbatorix's Demise**

Holding tightly onto her saddle they braved the tempestuous storm, sheets of torrential rain flowing beside them. It would not have been such a pretty picture had Eragon not enveloped them in a protective barrier, where the storm was inaudible from inside. One could only hear Saphira's soft growl and the wind breaking apart at her wings. It was like being inside a crystal ball, suspended within a waterfall.

Nasuada's message occupied his mind, and all he could hope for was that he was not too late. _There is an army outside Illirea! We need you Eragon._ He did not know anything beyond that. A siege would usually last months under a well fortified citadel. They had been flying for close to two weeks now.

" _Better not to dwell on the worst, little one,"_ Saphira said. " _We should be very close to the shore by now. I recognise this sea."_

" _You are right. However, I don't know what to expect upon my arrival there."_

" _It's nothing we can't handle…"_

" _We are here to assist you Eragon_ ," Umaroth said. Umaroth and Glaedr's Eldunarí glowed from inside the leather sack, that was tied around the side of Saphira's sternum. Having the wisdom of his two teachers reassured him somewhat. However, reassurance was not his main worry, it was the people he loved that were in danger.

Cliffs of thunderous clouds flashed brightly around him, searing a white glow into his vision. He could hardly see the waves below; just a swirling mass of dark shades of grey threatening to envelop him.

He felt a cold prick on his hand. Looking down it was a water drop. He wiped it away but then two other drops fell in its place.

" _Something is wrong with the barrier_ ," Eragon said. " _There is water leaking through."_

" _Did you say the right incantation?"_ Umaroth asked.

" _It's the same one I use all the time_."

" _Not so perfect with your powers after all, little one…"_ Saphira laughed softly.

Eragon shook his head at her jest, the sound of the storm was also growing louder, for some strange reason his magical barriers were failing. "Maela," said Eragon, silencing the storm before re-casting his warding spells.

His breath turned to white fog and a cold chill ran through his body.

" _What is it?"_ asked Saphira sensing a sudden change.

"Nothing, just…" before he could finish something loud crackled through the air, an ear-splitting crash that deafened his hearing, shattering his mental connection with Saphira. Vision became a blur as rain pounded his face and body. He could not make out anything through the chaos, only that he was still seated upon Saphira. A terrible ringing sound was all he could hear, echoing and pulsating within his mind. His body felt numb and cold, his legs and hands shuddering.

He lurched backwards as Saphira tried to bank towards the sea. Her instincts were right to find a lower elevation, away from the chaotic cauldron of the storm, but he could not communicate that to her. _What is going on?!_ He called upon his energy but he could only feel it, not control it. Desperation took hold of him. Something was not right…

Suddenly, he was blinded by something fulgurant; a powerful force struck his chest casting him violently to the side and off Saphira's back. His body froze and his insides convulsed sickeningly as his crippled body fell through the raging storm. His vision started to fail and before he lost consciousness he heard the gut wrenching wails of a dragon somewhere far…

As he fell there was a flicker of distant memories of a time before, of perfect things – a round blue stone...emerald green eyes...a silver scar on a farm boy's hand – and then there was darkness...

He breathed sharply as his eyes shot open. He was laying upon some rough sand on a beach. Across the sea horizon he could see flashes of lightning in the night sky. His body felt battered and sore as if he had been beaten by a dozen men. A strong musky scent filled his senses, he turned his head and there, not fifty feet from him, lay the hulking mass of Saphira. She lay unconscious with numerous bloody gashes covering her body. Fear filled Eragon's heart…she was dying. He dug his bruised hands into the wet sand and lifted himself off the shore. Blood dripped from multiple wounds around his body, painting the sand below him with crimson, but he pushed the searing pain out of his mind as the sight of Saphira's dying body was all he could think of. Eragon rushed towards Saphira, calling out her name all the while. His voice sounded raspy and faint.

As he limped the final few steps towards her, a searing white light erupted above Saphira's body. Blinded and dazed, an invisible force jerked him backwards, cracking his ribs and sending him sprawling towards the very edge of the shore. With the last remnants of his strength, he lifted his head from the sand, and saw an amorphous light taking shape above Saphira's unconscious body. His eyes had trouble focusing but he could finally make out features. Was it an elf? No, elves didn't have white glowing eyes. It was wearing a flowing robe that shifted and distorted its surroundings. His mind crept back to Saphira, and as he was too weak to move. He reached out with his mind.

" _Sa…Saphira–"_ Eragon's mind filled with unbelievable pain as he was repelled from her mind. He fought the pain and tried standing up but a force pulsated through his body, petrifying his movements, except for his eyes and mouth. Seeing Saphira there and him here, it left him helpless. The flaming figure shifted.

"You were told of your fate!" It spoke with a stentorian voice, power resonating from every word.

Eragon's eyes drifted towards Saphira, her body shuddered weaker and weaker with every breath she took. With what seemed like the last of her strength her eyes fluttered weakly as she locked eyes with him.

"Let me save her!" Eragon shouted, desperation filling his voice as Saphira's condition worsened.

"You were told you will never return to Alagaesia–"

"She will di–" An invisible hand grasped his throat.

"Yet you believe you can defy fate," the figure continued. Eragon's eyes drifted back to Saphira's and he saw them slowly closing.

"Please…" Eragon begged. Suddenly, for a brief moment, Saphira's mind merged with his and she whispered from somewhere far…

" _Little one…its okay…"_ and her eyes closed. Eragon's heart froze as his world came crashing down, and a single tear trailed down his cheek before he yelled with all his might.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?"

"Remember this day, remember this feeling," the figure spoke. "I came to show you the consequences of your choices." As the last words swept over Eragon, the invisible force holding him ceased, and Saphira's wounds slowly started healing. Relief flooded through him as he fought the pain and ran towards Saphira. He collapsed next to her and tightly embraced her neck. She wasn't moving but her breathing was now calm and constant.

His mind drifted to his thoughts. He thought of Roran and Katrina, of their beautiful family watching the sunset behind the hills around Carvahall. He thought of Nasuada, her unrivalled genius and strength guarding the empire they had created together. He thought of Murtagh and Thorn flying somewhere in a distant land, free from the confines of duty. He thought of all the people he ever loved or admired. There was one other, who Eragon knew the true name of — deep green eyes, flowing jet-black hair, a slight smile on her lips. _Arya…_ How could he possibly let them all go? He looked at Saphira again, closed his eyes and made his decision. He knew this would haunt him for his whole life, but he had no choice but to face that torture.

Saying Arya's true name in his mind, to somehow let her know he made this decision, he understood what the figure wanted. He knew he couldn't return...

As his body succumbed to exhaustion, he heard the figure's voice in his mind for the last time before he lost consciousness. " _You cannot change your fate, no mortal can…"_


	2. Prologue - Vestige of a Memory

Enjoy the second prologue.

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Prologue - Vestige of a Memory

I - Däthedr

 **8011 AC - Eight Years Later**

The candle flame flickered on the rough table, as clouds rumbled outside the small room. Spring rains were approaching, casting away the grim winter that came before it. For Däthedr that meant another season bereft of the life he once had. He watched the candle wax melt into the fine cracks of the wooden surface.

He then paced in the incommodious room, changing direction every four steps as he reached a flaking wall. A squared hole served as the only window, which overlooked Ilirea from the crown of a lofty, stone tower. From up here Däthedr saw an abundance of twinkling dots that marked roughly all the houses, and at the far-eastern end lay the citadel, resembling a finely chiselled rock with grand spires jutting above. It symbolised a magisterial throne carved into the skies of Alagaesia.

Däthedr turned around as he heard the sound of scuffling boots accompanied by something brushing against the dusty floor. Beneath the sill of the small door a large shadow appeared, and the scuffling silenced. Whoever that shadow belonged to tapped softly on the door, with slight pauses in-between. The tapping was the sound of someone afraid to enter, and Däthedr recognised who it was.

"Enter," Däthedr said, aware of how dry his throat was.

The hinges creaked as they slowly turned inwards. An old man in his sixties appeared, his head shadowed under his hood and bent low.

"For your sake," Däthedr said, "I hope you haven't come here empty-handed."

The old man trembled, knowing that Däthedr needed less than a second to end his life with just a mere thought. However, Däthedr only committed such an action when justified. An innocent old man hardly justified anything.

The old man drew his cloak back just enough to reveal a gangly arm trembling to support the weight of a small metal chest. "I found it," the old man said, his voice coming out in wheezes.

"Hand it over," Däthedr said.

The old man walked forth, his left side moving at an odd tilt. His knobbly fingers loosened around the chest and Däthedr gently removed it from the old man's burden.

Däthedr nodded with a smile. He placed the metal chest next to the candle and saw the flame bloom brighter. _Whatever this may be,_ _it is indeed powerful_. He retrieved a pouch of gold resting against a table leg and threw it towards the old man. The old man's eyes gleaned with lust and he caught it. He then silently left the room.

 _Fool_. _If the old man knew the real worth of the chest, he would not have retrieved it for such a small price._

Däthedr gave himself a moment before slowly picking up the metal chest. His breathing came out in shudders and he felt his body invigorate with warmth. His hands traced over the metal embossing depicting various forms of dragons; some breathed fire, some glided high, some slept soundly, while others feasted on their prey. The tapestry and signature of the work was beyond the skill of even the finest dwarven hands.

His eyes flitted towards a small spiral in the centre. Carved atop the spiral arms was a familiar language, the same language which elves had used for thousands of years, the same language which mastered the very energy of the cosmos.

Curious, Däthedr read the ancient language. He only read a sentence before his palms began to sweat as the chest grew hotter. A lump grew in his throat but he read on. Even if he wanted to stop he could not do so. Something was forcing him.

The chest seared through the skin and sinews of his hands, but Däthedr kept chanting the language. Tears welled in his eyes, but he could not blink them away. Loud screeches filled the silent air, and Däthedr noticed the embossed dragons had made the sound. They took on life and danced harmoniously around the chest. When he finished reading he screamed.

"Stop!"

As if the chest had heard him, the dragons returned to their original forms. Everything was silent now, except for Däthedr's pained quivering. He looked down at his hands, shocked at the flesh dripping off. Then, a miracle occurred. His skin and flesh reformed as if his hands had never burned in the first place. Däthedr's eyes widened as no healer could possess such an ability.

 _What power is controlling this?_

He flitted his eyes back towards the chest. A black, stainless key had fallen out. He reached down, his fingers wrapping around the key by their own will.

Suddenly, Däthedr rose into the air. His face cracked against the ceiling. The force arched his neck backwards. Däthedr lost the ability to scream, as his contorted body could not allow a gasp of air. Yet he felt the screams in his head.

He lay in darkness, the candle flame now extinguished. Then he saw another light, a bright blue one and it overwhelmed him. Visions flooded his mind.

 _ **A silent crowd gathered on a town street, watching wide-eyed at a young woman in chains being dragged forth. She screamed for help but the crowd was too afraid. Suddenly, bolts of blazing energy struck the earth, striking down the buildings along with the crowd. Everyone dropped dead, except for the tall figure that held the woman's chains.**_

 _ **The woman was thrown inside a dark cell deep underground. Her captor bolted her chains to the wall.**_

 **"** _ **I WILL KILL YOU FOR THIS GALBATORIX," the woman screamed.**_

Däthedr gasped for air and fell.


	3. Passing of Time

Author's Note: This story is going be divided up into parts. This is Part One and it is called The Dead Secrets. Every time I complete ten chapters that is the end of the part. When a part finishes I will take around ten weeks to start uploading the next part. Think of the parts as seasons of a TV show. Between every season there is a waiting period and in this case it is ten weeks. Right now this is the first chapter of Part One of the story. Nine more chapters to go before we take a break.

New chapters will be uploaded every Sunday. Enjoy this chapter.

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Passing of Time

I - Roran

 **One Month Later**

 _When Roran Stronghammer had accomplished the monumental task of uniting Palancar Valley he built a mansion for himself on the north-eastern hill — the loftiest hill there was — in Carvahall. This was the promise he made to Eragon. The mansion covered every yard on the top of the hill; a jewel for the city's residents. Sharply peaked roofs, a dozen rooms, limestone walls, a wide orchard, and a whole company of guards — Roran had left nothing to chance._

"Hurry up Roran, our guests will arrive shortly!" exclaimed Katrina, eying her husband trying to clean a muddy patch on the pearly granite floor. Roran tensed when he heard Katrina sigh. That meant he had done something wrong or forgot.

"What did I do now?" Roran asked, scratching the back of his head.

Katrina smiled. "Don't worry. You'll know soon enough."

Roran rolled his eyes. _Another one of her riddles._ He tightened the lapel on his coat and brought his hands behind his back in a presenting fashion. "How do I look?" He knew he could never be as presentable as Katrina was; her flowery red dress, her immaculately braided copper hair, her formal etiquette, and of course her deep brown eyes put her leagues ahead of beauty that he could ever possess.

"Shouldn't that be my line?" questioned Katrina with a knowing smile. "You look as handsome as ever." She joined Roran and gave him a quick peck to the cheek.

The years had been kind to Roran; age had not withered him greatly. His once shaggy beard was now neatly trimmed, and the scars which once covered nearly all of his body had mostly faded.

"I guess so," Roran said.

He gave up trying to clean every inch of his home until it was spotless. Instead he walked towards the open front door for some fresh air.

"And Roran," Katrina said, "maybe next time you should take off your shoes before you enter the hall." Confused, he looked down before letting out a dramatic sigh, causing Katrina to chuckle.

"You could have told me before you know," he said, without turning around.

"What, and miss the chance of seeing you completely oblivious? I think not."

Roran smiled to himself and headed out. A light breeze greeted him accompanied by the smell of fresh grass. Far off he could smell the banquet that was sizzling in the kitchens. The two entrance guards inclined their heads respectfully. From up here he had a perfect view of Carvahall, and the surrounding countryside. _Garrow would have been happy to see this_.

Thanks to the gold trade between Tronjheim and Palancar Valley Roran could afford the upkeep for Carvahall. With the gems that Eragon had given him Roran built a solid, defensive square around the city, with tall cylindrical towers providing an impregnable garrison for catapults and archers. The stonework was relegated to Orik's most talented masons and they did not disappoint with their immaculate attention to detail and structure. Finally, the ballistae at the crown of the towers protected the city from aerial attacks.

The houses were arranged in an orderly fashion populated by narrow level streets which diminished the labors of travel that a city usually had. The houses were made of Talmerian timber that were harvested from The Spine. It provided great strength and durability. Mottled on the outside of these houses were creamy rock tiles which protected against erratic weather and provided exceptional insulation. The buildings close to the walls were mainly shops whereas further inside the structures grew larger and grander.

As Roran lifted his gaze towards the horizon, he saw the colossal ball of fire trying to descend below the folds of the earth, signaling the arrival of nightfall.

"FATHER! Are they here yet?" asked Garron and Ismira. Roran abandoned his gaze towards the horizon to give them both a smile.

"No, not yet. But slow down before you both fall and get hurt," replied Roran. His children ran towards him with arms open wide expecting the fierce hug they always got, and of course today was no exception. Releasing them he inspected them from head to toe, making sure they had not ruined their clothes before the celebration even began.

Ismira had a fair complexion with neatly braided copper hair and light brown eyes. She wore a bright yellow dress with a silver chain around her neck. Garron on the other hand had grey eyes, a slightly darker complexion due to constant playing in the sun, and a batch of ruffled brown hair. Both Garron and Ismira's eyes overflowed with excitement. Roran smiled and asked, "Did you have fun?"

"Yes father, it was great," replied Garron and Ismira with wide grins.

"But father, did you know Garron pushed me?" said Ismira, changing her grin into a sad pout.

"Oh really. Now that is not good," said Roran, eying his five year old son who made an angelic face attempting to show his innocence. "You go inside and help your mother, while I have a talk with Garron," said Roran.

"But father..." protested Garron with an exasperated expression, as if he was the most unfairly treated child.

"Garron, now listen to me carefully. Never hurt women, it's not a man's place."

"But Ismira kept annoying me."

Roran looked towards Garron with amusement. "Instead of being annoyed at women you should charm them. Just like me and your uncle Eragon did."

"Uncle Eragon and you charmed women?" asked Garron, surprised.

"Oh yes. Your uncle and I were quite the charmers. We charmed every women we ever met and that's what you should try to do instead of hurting them," said Roran, his face solemn as if relaying a legendary piece of advice.

"Alright father," replied Garron determinedly.

"Who's a real charmer?" asked a gentle, amused voice from behind Roran; he knew the voice and thus felt quite embarrassed.

"Well, father was saying he was quite the charmer," replied Garron, looking towards his mother, who had come outside holding Ismira's hand.

"I'm sure he was," said Katrina sarcastically. "Now come on Garron, you need to get cleaned up again."

"Mom!" exclaimed Garron in exasperation. However, his rebellion was short lived as Katrina fixed him with a strict stare. Knowing what this could lead to Garron hurried into the house followed by his mother.

Roran decided to check upon the preparations for the banquet. He signaled the guards standing before the entrance to remain behind. As twilight faded lanterns came to life throughout Carvahall, illuminating the city in a golden glow.

Roran walked onto the main street that lead past the great hall and towards the front gate. The streets were bustling with activity, he could see the final arrangements for the feast being prepared as people rushed to the great hall carrying utensils which would be required. Great rows of tables were being carried to the main hall along with dozens of chairs.

At the center of this procession yelling orders to chefs, musicians, and all those involved in the feast was Hiro. Hiro was a young man from Ceunon who had travelled with his family to Carvahall and was now one of Roran's most trusted advisors and commanders. His brother Endimiyon — if Roran could get past the wild dissimilarity between them — was the general of Carvahall. He watched as Hiro yelled orders and curses, causing the people before him to rush with whatever they had.

"Hurry you slack jawed pigs!" yelled Hiro, igniting a sense of urgency within the people. "Hey, Barry. Instead of scraping the table on the floor how about you pick it up. Make some use of that bloody fat you gained."

"How go the preparations Hiro?" called Roran.

Hiro turned before inclining his head. "Ah, Lord Roran. These farmers are as lazy as they are dumb, however, the preparations should be complete shortly."

"Where's Endimiyon?" asked Roran.

Hiro laughed, "If you know him as I do, he is probably drunk somewhere in a tavern."

Roran scowled. "He was needed at the celebrations tonight."

"Aye my lord, but Endimiyon celebrates every night. He wouldn't have thought tonight was any special."

Roran sighed. "That's true. Very well, return to your duties. I will head to the gates, our guests will be arriving shortly."

"Very well my lord," said Hiro, resuming his cursing at the people around him.

Roran proceeded towards the forge before the outer front gates to meet some of his old friends. Carvahall's forge stood tall and proud, its air filled with the smell of molten metal and charred ash. Hammer blows on steel reverberated in the surroundings as Horst levelled his hammer onto a metal rod that burned with an orange glow. Baldor stood beside him, watching his father in order to learn the subtleties of his technique. Baldor and Albriech had both become great smiths, however, they could not match their father's skill.

Horst had his arms bare to the elbow, his eyes concentrating on the hammer blows. His hair had turned completely grey, but the strength in his arms had not waned. Baldor was the first to notice Roran and grinned with delight. Patting his father on the shoulder he approached Roran and enveloped him in a strong hug.

"What brings you this way, mighty Stronghammer?" asked Baldor with a sly grin.

Roran laughed before clapping him on the shoulder. "You'll never stop will you?" he asked in disdain.

"You know me," said Baldor.

Horst had removed his gloves and came to stand by his son, a smile upon his lips. He then looked towards the gate, where a large host of people were gathering. "I'm guessing they are almost here."

"Yes, they must be arriving soon," said Roran, his eyes upon the growing procession.

"Where is Albriech?' asked Roran.

Baldor laughed. "Helping the ladies cook. I swear he doesn't leave more than three feet between him and his wife. He's like a crazed puppy."

"Not too long ago you were the same," said Elaine, who had walked out of the house smiling with a cup of water. She came over and hugged Roran. "Where's Eragon Junior?" she asked, referring to Garron.

Roran smiled. Those who knew Eragon had begun calling Garron by the same name, due to the similarities of their character, especially their undying curiosity. "He'll be coming down shortly along with Katrina and Ismira," said Roran, looking back up towards his home where he could see Katrina, Ismira, and Garron making their way ahead of the procession with guards around them.

"It will be quite a feast," said Baldor grinning. "After all Hiro's in charge and if Hiro is known for anything it's throwing parties." Roran laughed along with everyone else.

Once Katrina arrived with Garron and Ismira stories began to flow between the old friends. However, Roran knew how much Garron and Ismira wanted to see the nobles arrive. Quietly he snuck them away and headed towards the gate. The guards had already begun to work the pulleys in order to open the gate, which groaned and creaked.

The people bowed once Roran joined them. No matter how many times he tried to tell them otherwise they treated him like a king. He recognized a few friends of old along with many new faces all smiling towards him. Carvahall was indeed growing each day, and it made the future that much more exciting.

He placed his hands on his children's shoulders. "Do you want to see them from atop the gate?"

Both their faces shone with excitement and he knew their answer before they even responded.

"Yes father!" They climbed the stairs leading atop the gate accompanied by Berenford, captain of the guard. Atop the gate they could see the wide expanse of land shrouded in night, however, soon the full moon unveiled past the clouds.

"They will be here soon," Roran said, gazing out towards the horizon. Cheers erupted from both Garron and Ismira as they fervently scanned the entire sky for movement. A few watchful stars appeared in the sky, twinkling their faces upon the earth.

"Look towards the east," pointed Roran, holding his children close. "That's where they will come from." A glitter of light suddenly appeared, as if bright new stars had just been born, radiating light in all directions. People would pay a fortune to lay their eyes upon that glittering light, its beauty worth more than a mountain of gold, the beauty as Roran knew from the likes of a dragon.


	4. Gathering of Nobles

Author's Note: Please enjoy this chapter. New chapters will be uploaded every Sunday.

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Gathering of Nobles

I - Roran

Roran averted his gaze from the fast-approaching dragon to look upon Ismira and Garron. Both stared wide-eyed towards the sky with their mouths agape. Garron was drooling, hardly noticing it drip to his chin. Seeing them Roran tried his best to not laugh, and instead managed a quiet snicker.

He tugged upon his children beckoning them to follow him and join Katrina. Once they joined Katrina Roran returned his gaze towards the sky. A tinge of colour appeared in the moonlight it was reflecting, shining like a massive emerald in the sky. It belonged to the first free dragon of the golden age. _Fírnen-vodhr._

"Sire," Berenford called from atop the gate, "a message has arrived from the southern outpost. King Orik and Chieftain Nar Garzhvog are approaching Carvahall's eastern gate."

"Very well," Roran said.

Fírnen roared as loud as several thunderclaps, causing the crowd to gasp. They watched in astonishment as Fírnen glided down before the city gates, and once he landed a gentle tremor rumbled the ground.

Fírnen walked through the gate and stood before Roran; fierce and majestic. And upon his back sat two queens. At the fore was an ebony-haired elf with fair skin wearing a silver dress and a beautiful diadem rested upon her head. From her noble posture, Roran recognised her as Arya Dröttning, Queen of the elves.

Behind Arya sat Queen Nasuada, daughter of Ajihad. She wore a black sheath dress that hugged her thin figure, while her hair was done up in a tight bun with a pin to keep it in place. The whole crowd bowed before her while whispering, _My Queen_.

"Welcome my Queens," said Roran his arms open wide, "to the city of Carvahall." The crowd cheered and white flower petals rained from atop the city walls.

####

The feast started spectacularly. There were pickle stuffed ducks, roasted partridges, lamb shanks, beef chops, creamy salad, several varieties of soup, and a giant boar roasting on a spit in the centre of the great hall. Roran was impressed that the city had given so much towards Garron's feast. For their generosity he invited many of them tonight.

The walls were lined with Dwarvish lanterns and a grand chandelier hung at the centre of the hall. The musicians played their jolly tunes while the jugglers danced around the room. The festive mood brought cheerful smiles to everyone.

Roran, his family, and the nobles sat at the head of the great hall around a large table that stood on a raised platform. In front of them were the city-folk laughing, talking, cheering, dancing, and singing while enjoying the banquet being served to them. Katrina sat to Roran's right and Orik to his left while Nar Garzhvog sat to Orik's left. Across from Roran sat Arya and Nasuada with Garron and Ismira's seats empty as they mingled with the crowd below.

Ismira was particularly enjoying herself. Her hands were folded behind her back as she danced from dancer to singer, her yellow embroidered dress frolicking around. The city-folk cheered her on, amazed that their young lady was such a good dancer. Garron on the other hand gazed open-mouthed at a flaming juggler, completely oblivious to the fact that his father was smiling at him.

The entertainers — who stood at the other end of the hall — bowed towards the nobles every time they finished a performance. Orik and Nar Garzhvog cheered with an uproar then skulked down the mead in their large tankards. The serving girls were frightened by their boisterous acts, or maybe because there was a twelve feet urgal in the hall.

Roran and Nasuada laughed while Arya simply smiled. Serving girls presented Arya and Nasuada with an assortment of drinks. Nasuada accepted a glass of wine from one of the serving girls, while Arya appreciatively took a glass of fresh apple and berry juice. Orik looked disdainfully at Arya's choice of drink, while Nar Garzhvog had refilled his tankard making Roran lose count of how much the urgal had drunk in such a short span of time.

Garron, after being bored at looking at the jugglers, suddenly jumped as Fírnen's head appeared outside the tall arched windows behind Nasuada and Arya. The entertainers looked at each other nervously knowing the sight of a dragon was beyond any entertainment they could perform. The city-folk clapped wildly at the sight, some raising their cups in toast to the magisterial beast.

Garron ran back to Roran's table, his mouth trying to mutter something important. After catching his breath he spoke. "Master Fírnen, why are you so green? And how have you grown so big?" Garron asked. A plume of smoke escaped Fírnen's nostrils.

Arya chuckled. "Fírnen tells me he doesn't like being summarised as simply green. He asks for a more flattering adjective."

"But look at him," Garron said, turning to Arya while pointing directly at Fírnen. "He is _so_ green. I cannot call him colourful."

"Garron, don't bother Master Fírnen," said Katrina with a stern look towards her son. "If you worked harder during your studies you would have known a few more words."

"Come on mother," Garron said. "Me and Fírnen are actually quite good friends."

Katrina was about to retort but Arya interrupted. "It is fine Katrina. Fírnen does not actually mind."

Katrina sighed. "Very well."

"It is quite an impressive feast you have arranged Roran," said Nasuada, her eyes roaming the hall.

"Aye," Roran said, "it is an honour that you have graced this feast with your presence tonight."

Orik laughed clapping Roran on the back. "You cousin have outdone yourself. We dwarves would have put this feast down as one of the most grand in history."

Roran smiled but he knew Orik was just complimenting him out of good nature rather than honesty. The dwarven feasts were usually several times bigger than tonight's feast. "Well I'm glad you are happy," Roran said. "The last time I had met you you seemed quite bitter about losing the Ilirea Games."

Orik choked a bit on his chicken bone before he spat it out. He looked at Arya pointedly. "Unlike our opponents we preferred not to cheat."

Nasuada laughed. "The past is in the past. The dwarves will have their chance again."

"When the elves learn to play fair," Nar Garzhvog added.

"Not you too," Nasuada said softly. "It was because Rah Kharzed tampered with his hammer that the urgals were disqualified. Why should you blame the elves for that incident?"

Nar Garzhvog grunted. "Rah Kharzed is an honourable lad. The puny elves had deliberately planted that hammer in the training ground."

"You know we did not Nar Garzhvog," Arya said simply. She looked down at her half-filled glass, lost in some thought.

"I demand another investigation", Orik said, his moustache twitching slightly. "I will not accept the elves had won. We were better prepared and a couple of rules brought us down at the final bout."

"Accusing me that I had fixed a couple of rules is dangerous," Arya said. "I suggest you keep it to yourself. The investigation was as thorough as it could be."

For a moment it seemed as if Orik was ready to leave the hall. Then suddenly he burst into laughter. Everyone else soon followed causing Arya to smile as she shook her head slightly. Orik didn't really believe the Ilirea Games were fixed, but he loved to act that it was in order to make the occasional gathering a bit less awkward.

"You have been quiet Stronghammer," Orik said. "Tell us how you have been."

"Busy and well," Roran said, gently squeezing Katrina's shoulders. She turned towards him, reflecting the radiant smile he gave to her.

"It has been peaceful here," Katrina said. "That is all I can ask."

Nasuada smiled as best as she could to that. Roran sensed that there was much disappointment behind that smile and he knew why. _If only the rest of her empire was as peaceful as here_. Katrina was ignorant of the events outside Palancar Valley and Roran wanted to keep it that way. She had witnessed enough death and horror for one life.

"But enough of me," Roran said. "Tell me of all your adventures. Last I heard you were building a port city larger than Teirm."

"My coffers are nearly empty," Nasuada said. "We will have to halt the building and focus more on trade."

"If you have a reasonable deal then I am happy to negotiate with you," Orik said. "We dwarves are literally pissing gold."

"I do have a preposition," Nasuada said, "but we will discuss it at the Surda Games this year."

Orik shrugged with a smug grin. "My scholars are pressuring me to send some of them to Drovengard to seek more knowledge that could benefit us. I could strike a profitable deal if I could be given a sizeable number of ships of my own."

"We are not here to discuss politics right now," Katrina said.

"I am curious about Drovengard. I heard it is the most beautiful city in existence," Ismira said, sitting down next to Arya. As usual Ismira always managed to find herself in the right conversation at the right time as Roran had not seen her arrive from the far end of the hall.

Orik nodded, a faraway look in his eyes, "That's what I have heard as well. After all it took seven years to complete the city with the best mages Alagaesia had to offer. I am sure Queen Arya may enlighten us more."

Everyone turned to Arya, except for Garron who seemed to be chatting happily away with Fírnen.

"The rumours are true," Arya said. "Eragon Shadeslayer has built a grander city than the old order of riders had built in Vroengard."

"So the elven scholars have returned?" Roran asked.

Arya nodded. "Some have but they are eager to go back. The tales they tell mesmerise everyone."

And so Arya engaged everyone with tales of this new land called Ascillion where Drovengard lay. The food and songs did not overpower the joy and wonder of Arya's powerful storytelling ability. Everyone had something to add and questions they asked. Arya patiently handled the affair. Even though Roran enjoyed it immensely a small sense of emptiness grew within him. It felt like someone was missing among them, and no matter how much he tried to quell the thoughts, they returned. _I wish you could be here cousin…_

"Roran?" Queen Arya asked.

Roran broke out of his daze meeting Arya's questioning eyes. "Sorry…did you ask me a question?"

"No. But it seemed you were deep in thought."

"Oh, it's nothing," Roran lied, looking down at his food. He then clapped his hand and stood up smiling. The guards banged on their shields until the city-folk quieted down.

"Bring in the cake for my dear boy!" Roran announced.

Garron ran to take his position at the centre of the hall where everyone stood around him. The cooks brought in a chocolate cake that was three layers tall and atop was a small young toy figure astride an orange dragon with a sword brandished out. "That is me!" Garron said, recognising himself as the young figure. Everyone cheered once Garron cut himself the largest slice and kept the toy figure.

"Wouldn't you like your presents first?" Nasuada said, catching Garron off-guard.

"I had almost forgot!" Garron said.

As Roran looked around to all the faces standing around his son, he felt a sense of family. He imagined Eragon standing beside him with Garron on his shoulders and realised how much more joyous the day would have been. Roran felt something caress his cheeks and realised it was a tear. He quickly wiped it away before anyone noticed.

 _I can't ruin this day because I am sad._

Orik was the first to give Garron his present. It was a sheen, steel object made of rings which intertwined to create a complex pattern. "This will sharpen your wits young master Garron," Orik said, flicking one of the rings. "I wager you could solve this faster than your uncle did when I journeyed with him."

"You always give me odd gifts," said Garron, clinking the rings vigorously in order to solve the riddle. Afterwards Nasuada gave Garron an orb of glass which when touched presented images of past dragons that hatched in Alagaesia after Galbatorix's demise. Ismira looked jealous as she loved to gaze upon art that inspired her creatively.

Nar Garzhvog then stepped forward and presented Garron with a beaded necklace that had a large, sharp tooth as the pennant. "This is the tooth of the Shrrg. Whomsoever wears this is considered an extremely brave urgal. The way you handled Fírnen today you're braver than a brave Urgal!"

Garron wore the necklace and puffed his chest out. "I will be the bravest rider in Alagaesia!"

Arya presented the last gift. She gave Garron a bronze scroll holder engraved with beautiful runes.

"Open it," Arya said.

Garron twisted the scroll holder from both ends. With a pop a scroll fell out of the holder and onto his hand.

"What you have in your hand is a poem Eragon wrote in Ellesméra," Arya said. "It is very precious and rare. I want you to take care of it."

"My uncle wrote this?" Garron said, tears forming. "Thank you Queen Arya."

Nasuada sighed. "Poor Garron. He really wants to meet his uncle." She then reached down and kissed him on the cheek before enveloping him in a gentle hug.

After the cake had been cut everyone returned to their seats.

"Queen Arya and Queen Nasuada," Garron said. "I've wanted to ask you for some time now. Did my uncle charm any of you?" Roran felt his cheeks flush red. Surprised and taken aback Arya and Nasuada took their time in order to come up with a response. Roran looked at Katrina who desperately tried to hold back laughter.

 _It seems the blood of Brom and Eragon runs in large quantities within this child,_ Fírnen said. _Otherwise he would never ask these many questions._ Roran was curious as to how Fírnen knew about Brom but then realised that Saphira must have imparted some memories to him before she had left.

"At first your uncle had the charm of a spoon," Nasuada said gently. "But then later he was probably the second most charming man I ever met."

"Which means I am the first," replied Garron.

Nasuada laughed. "Something like that."

Arya cleared her throat. Everyone turned silent. "Charming was…one way to describe him," Arya stated bluntly.

Garron seemed satisfied with the response and thus returned to finishing his cake slice while playing with his toy figure all sticky with sugar.

Then suddenly a flash of blue erupted in front of Garron. He yelped in surprise and ran to his mother, hiding behind the folds of her dress.

 _So much for the brave Urgal_ , Roran thought amusingly.

Across from Roran Arya raised her hand and a dome of yellow light formed around the blue, pulsating speck.

"Someone is attempting to send something here," Arya said, straining her eyes. "I can't prevent it. The power is too strong."

"Don't fight it," Roran said. "I was waiting for this."

The yellow dome burst into shards of light, before dissipating into glowing smoke. With a heavy thud something dropped onto the table. It was a small wooden chest with the words, _From Eragon Shadeslayer and the people of Drovengard,_ etched at the front.

"Uncle Eragon has sent me my gift!" said Garron, running over to the wooden chest and grabbing it.

Orik, Arya and Nasuada were confused by this, while Nar Garzhvog seemed ready to attack an unseen foe.

"What if it is a cursed artefact?" Nar Garzhvog said.

The box opened with a slight crack, and inside were two odd objects. To the left was a silver necklace made of two chains intertwined together to create an intricate pattern. The pennant of the necklace was a purple sapphire with a blue pulsating light at the centre. That sapphire looked more majestic and grander than any gem Roran had laid eyes upon. Looking at Orik it seemed the king had also never seen such a beautiful gem in his life.

Below the sapphire was a small note saying: _For Ismira. May I see you in Drovengard someday. When you arrive wear that necklace and I will recognise you. Sent by a friend of your uncle._

Beside the necklace was a short model of a sword that resembled the legendary blade Brisingr. It was crafted with such skill Roran could not tell the difference, except for the size of course. Unfortunately this one did not have a note.

Everyone on the table leaned in, their eyes fixed upon the presents. After observing every inch of the blade, Garron looked back into the parcel, and found a folded parchment. Garron opened it in haste and there in jet-black ink, written by Eragon's hand, was:

 _Dear Garron and Ismira,_

 _Happy birthday my dear Garron. I'm sorry I have not been able to talk to you both as I had promised and have been a very bad uncle. However, I send this gift to you now in the hopes that you may forgive me. There is not a day that goes by in which I don't miss all of you in Alagaesia and wish that I was there with you right now celebrating your birthday. But alas, it is not within my power. All I can do is wish that both of you live a great life and that all your dreams come true. I know you hate me for not talking to you, but either I can hurt myself everyday by talking to you and not return, or I can hurt myself once by not talking to you until I can return. I love you from the depth of my heart. Stay safe and live life to the fullest._

 _Love Eragon_

Without a moment to waste Ismira wore her necklace with the help of Katrina and twirled about, showing off her new gift, while Garron swung his blunted short sword wildly _. Eragon, like always, even though you're thousands of leagues away, you still manage to spoil your nephew and niece._

After the gifts, the feast came to an end.

####

Roran escorted the royals to his castle while Katrina headed off to the living chambers with Garron and Ismira. The guests thanked the nobles for the feast and went home to rest.

Even though Roran wanted the feast to be the last event for tonight more troubling matters had to be addressed concerning Alagaesia. Roran led the nobles to a wide room, with maps laid out on a wide, circular stone table.

The royals sat around the table before Nasuada. "Let us begin," Nasuada said, her voice echoing in the war chamber.


	5. War Meeting

I hope you enjoy this chapter. Read and share your thoughts. New chapters will be uploaded every Sunday.

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War Meeting

I - Roran

Arya firmly placed her finger on top of the large map engraved into the wide stone table and pointed at the Southern Isles. From that, Roran immediately knew what everyone would talk about tonight. _Veras_.

"Veras is gathering strength there," Arya said. "He has bought himself indefinite time to thoroughly plan his next move."

Everyone leaned in. It had become routine during a meeting that Arya would get straight to the point. No one expected any introductions or pleasantries when she was serious.

"Aye," Orik said, springing up at the mention of war. "However, we know he would most likely strike at a Surdan port. Orrin assures me he has them heavily guarded should that happen."

Roran nodded. "My men made sure that Veras would never show his face in the north again. You can rule out the eastern ports to Palancar Valley, or even Teirm for that matter."

This caused Arya to sigh. "I understand your confidence Lord Roran. However, what your soldiers faced at The Spine was a brash Veras. The Veras that will re-emerge from the Southern Isles would have learnt from that mistake."

"Pointed ears is right," Nar Garzhvog said in his guttural voice. "The human traitor seems much surer of himself now. He's not the petty plunderer he was years ago."

Roran felt irritated at the compliments everyone was giving Veras. He remembered seeing that rebel in Surda during a court hearing. That day Veras had arrived to collect his brother Ralcum after he was cleared from conspiratorial charges against a Surdan lord. If only Roran had the foresight to choke both of them right then. "That filth," Roran said. "I'm surprised he survived this long. If we treat him more than a mere rebel we are only casting doubt into our own capabilities."

In all of this Nasuada looked down at her crossed hands. It was no secret that she was disappointed at how things unravelled in Alagaesia under her rule. Two bloody wars in just ten years was not how anyone here envisioned the post-Galbatorix era. Potentially, another war headed their way.

"Not knowing our enemy's full potential is more dangerous," Arya said. "Veras started out as a penniless beggar and within a year became one of the most influential figures in Surda. Not to mention he gathered an army of three thousand mercenaries shortly after that. Underestimating him like we underestimated our previous enemies is a mistake I cannot allow again."

"Aye," Nar Garzhvog said. "My clan shall not know me as lazy when dealing with my enemies. The same advice is for all of you in your clans as well. If Veras is a dying ember he needs to be in the right place to spark a fire."

"And that is what he is doing," Arya said. "He is planning something big. My contacts in Surda tell me a lot has gone quiet since Veras escaped. This can mean only one thing. He is gathering his supporters outside Surda for a major attack. We cannot know his plan because he understands the magical fluctuations caused by Eoam's floating crystal. He is manipulating that vast energy to cloak his affairs."

"Another war, then," Nasuada said, closing her eyes in chagrin.

Roran stood up, furious. How could the most powerful figures in Alagaesia not be able to stop a small band of rebels? He knew he was not the only one asking this question. Every citizen in Alagaesia was asking the exact thing. As long as this went unanswered the people would lose their confidence, and that would mean more rebellion to come. Where would Katrina, Ismira and Garron go then? Carvahall was their only home and Roran was too tired to start over.

"What if we force him out?" Roran said, stroking his beard while scanning the questioning looks in the room. "If we form a naval blockade around those islands we would essentially cast Veras into attrition, forcing him to surrender."

There were hints of nodding from Orik and Nar Gharzhvog. However, Arya and Nasuada seemed less convinced hardly reacting to his plan at all. _What is it with queens these days?_

Nasuada spoke. "This plan will utilise such resources which we do not have. Look at those islands." Nasuada tapped a finger on the map thrice. "Surrounding such a large stretch of ocean is impossible. We don't know which island he is on."

"Hold on," Orik said, raising a finger. "We can narrow it down, however. The whirlpool between Nia and Bierland makes it an impossible passage to cross. Thus Nia and the northeast of Beirland can be ruled out."

"Uden is too small for an army to grow," Nar Garzhvog added.

"That still leaves Parlim, Illium and the rest of Beirland," Nasuada said. "Setting a blockade around even one of the islands would require us to pool a large amount of resources. Three is impossible. Not to mention our naval capability is poor."

Roran cursed to himself. He sat back down in his seat, his fists whitening as he tightened them. _If I ever catch a whiff of that bastard he'll have hell to pay in this life_. "We cannot know how much resources we truly have until we form a pact to blockade Veras," Roran said. "Surely the races would be willing to do their utmost."

"That is overly optimistic," Nasuada said. "What you are suggesting is not simple. These races will not go to a war thousands of leagues away that does not affect them directly. As far as they are concerned humans should deal with human wars. It is only a matter of time before the races start to undermine the coalition we have set up. As much as I know Orik, Arya, and Nar Gharzhvog are willing to help, however, their belief is not shared entirely by their people."

"She is right," Arya said. "The social constricts that were present before Galbatorix's reign have reformed. Self-interests have become the prevalent concerns within each race."

Roran spoke. "If we cannot send a naval force then surely we can at least send scout ships there. If we know where Veras would be striking we'll be there to stop him before it happens."

"I tried that," Arya said. "The scouts either find nothing or they are killed. Veras has intelligence of where the scouts are and acts accordingly."

"Spies," Roran said in a low voice. _He's infiltrated our military now?_

Nasuada nodded. "They have spread throughout the empire."

"How could we have allowed him to amass such power right from under our feet?" Roran said.

"When Galbatorix died his closest followers remained loyal to his cause," Nasuada said. "These followers see Veras as their next leader and have formed a sick cult around him. These mercenaries they've hired are former soldiers of the Empire who've not been able to transition into normal life. So these former soldiers keep doing what they are trained to do."

"Sometimes when soldiers have no wars to fight they create their own," Arya said.

They remained silent for a moment allowing Roran to form his thoughts. There was this growing itch in his mind that he should take matters into his own hand. _The only reason this fool has the upper hand is because he can predict and monitor our movements. We are too big to conceal our movements. But if Carvahall acted alone it could provide the small-scale circumstance needed to mount an effective surprise._

Orik broke the long silence. "What of the underground network in Dras-Leona? Have you managed to infiltrate it yet?"

"We have tried but there seems to be no progress," Nasuada said. "Those we have caught in relation to the network die instantly before divulging any information. Lady Trianna tells me that the magical trap is extremely sophisticated."

"Vermûnd was always careful," Orik said. "He wouldn't have created this network without making sure it was protected in every way."

"His clan is still supporting him after all he has done," Roran said. "Haven't they learnt that the riders are a blessing for this cursed land?"

"Hatred makes men blind Roran," Arya said. "Vermûnd always had a way to make people see what he wanted them to see."

"Once the magical incantation on his followers is cracked I will remove this rotten membrane from Dras-Leona forever," Nasuada said.

Roran shook his head. "We are in a perpetual state of secret wars. Is there any wise course of action we can take?" _Everything we do to try and remedy these problems only enflames them_ , Roran thought to himself, thinking it better not to say it out loud. He didn't want the council thinking that he felt hopeless at the moment.

"For now, there isn't much that we can do." Arya said. "The Surda Games are fast approaching. Deploying large armies into Dras-Leona or the east coast would only cause panic. The people have suffered enough to earn this peace and we shouldn't undermine their confidence."

 _What peace?_ Roran wanted to say. _One enemy rises after another. In the end there has only been an illusion of peace_. _Like tonight's feast…_

"For now vigilance is our best course of action," Orik said. "Once the Surda Games end we should make a bigger effort militarily."

Roran smiled pitifully.

"Why do you smile?" asked Nar Garzhvog.

"I was wrong…you were wrong…we were all wrong," said Roran, pointing his finger at everyone in the room. "We thought that by defeating Galbatorix the chaos would end. Having this war meeting during a celebration is the irony that reflects this. The people outside don't know that we're celebrating a false victory."

Roran felt hypocritical. He felt he was deceiving his own people let alone his own family. Today should have been the day where he felt happy at his own children growing up but truly he felt more afraid for them now. What world was he leaving for them?

"I agree with Roran," Arya said, tapping her fingers on the table. Roran could sense the anger in her mood the same way he had it. "Defeating Galbatorix brought with it freedom but it also gave freedom to those who wish to do vile things. The fear of Galbatorix kept chaos at bay. No matter how much we disagree with his actions we have to admit his rule kept order in the land. With that gone cracks have formed. Cracks that we cannot fill. We can't rule by fear. It goes against everything we fought for. However, with moral decision comes consequences. Our enemies know this and use it against us."

"Speaking of which," Nasuada said. "Word has arrived that a mage rebellion is brewing within the Hadarac Desert."

"Wait," Roran said. "Didn't Field Marshal Däthedr and Lady Trianna put an end to Trishant and her brother Arcaso?"

"Däthedr and Trianna did indeed kill Arcaso at the fringe of Farthen Dûr," Nasuada said. "However, it seems Trishant survived that encounter. Now she seeks revenge for her brother's death. She has openly called for blood by sending me the heads of several of my soldiers."

"That should never have happened," Arya said, turning to Nasuada. "That war nearly ended us eight years ago, and all because you went against my advice of passing The Orders for Limitation into power."

"At the time it seemed the best course of action," Nasuada said, matching Arya's glare in intensity. "It was the only way to restrict a single person from having absolute authority on magic. This law prevented another Galbatorix."

"And instead you brought a crippling war," Arya said. "That victory at the edge of Farthen Dûr was pyrrhic."

"If I could change what I did then, I would," Nasuada said. "I certainly didn't ask for a war."

Arya seemed like she wanted to say something more but she stopped herself. Instead she sighed as if noticing that arguing with Nasuada was only making things worse. "What's done is done," Arya said. "The thing to do now is to prevent this Hadarac rebellion from spreading out."

Nasuada nodded. "Lady Trianna and Mage Faelyn are using all their resources to prevent Trishant and her supporters from amassing magical power. Her rebels would be crippled in their efforts to recreate the previous war, I am sure of it."

"Trianna and Mage Faelyn are powerful no doubt," Roran said, his heart racing at the thought of what he was about to say next. "But…um…we need my cousin Eragon to return." All faces turned to him except for Arya who seemed indifferent to what he had said.

Roran nonetheless continued. "By what you have told me about Alagaesia, it seems the time is right for Eragon to return and issue a measure of order in the land."

He nearly jumped off his seat as a loud thump reverberated through the room. Nasuada had banged the table hard. For the first time in many years Roran saw genuine anger in her eyes causing a slight chill in his body.

"Eragon, you say," Nasuada said. "Where has he been for the last ten years when we needed him the most? When the mage rebels were close to Ilirea, where was Eragon? When Carvahall was sieged, where was Eragon? When rebels burned down a dozen villages in the north killing hundreds of innocents, where was Eragon? I asked him for help each time and he refused. I begged in my heart for him to return. I even prayed for it. But he did not return. So many lives were lost; good people, good soldiers. Friends don't leave you when you need them the most."

"Are you saying he turned his back on us?" Roran said. Just the mere thought of it caused him enough outrage to want to hammer this whole castle into rubble. _What has happened to you Eragon?_

"Look around you Roran," Nasuada said. "The world we know is falling apart. I think it's time we leave the heroes of the past _in_ the past, and look to fix the future ourselves. I've wasted enough time on wishful thinking. I would also advise you to be pragmatic now. Eragon is not returning"

Orik held Roran down by his shoulder before he had a chance to retort. He saw betrayal in Orik's expression as well. _This whole unity you worked for Eragon has fallen apart because of you_.

The rest of the session was spent in silence before Arya stood up from her chair shortly followed by Nasuada. Arya smiled towards Roran. "I thank you for your hospitality Roran, but I have to return to Du Weldenvarden and Nasuada must return to Ilirea. We have important duties to perform."

"Aye," said Orik, also rising from his chair, "Alagaesia needs us to be strong if we are to ever bring peace to the land. Anyway, kings and queens can only celebrate for so long, eh?" Orik smiled but Roran did not return it.

Normally Roran would have asked them to stay longer but he was too tired to prolong the night. He needed distance to think. He needed distance to think about Eragon.

Outside, the night was silent. The people had returned to their homes and the only sounds which could be heard were the distant hooting of owls. Fírnen rose from his slumber as Arya, Nasuada and Roran approached him. Orik and Nar Garzhvog mounted their steeds and rode down to the city square where their personal guards waited to accompany them home.

As Nasuada mounted Fírnen Arya turned to Roran. She leaned close to his right ear. "I do not ask you to lose hope, Roran Stronghammer. However, Angela has never cast a fortune that has not come true. For those who defy their own destiny have never existed in Alagaesia. Eragon's destiny is not here, it's in Drovengard."

With that she climbed onto Fírnen and flew off into the dark swirling clouds, leaving Roran with a deep sense of loss.

He entered the great hall of his mansion, completely devoid of the energy he had starting today's proceedings. Katrina joined him as he walked up the stairs, her hands wrapped around his left arm.

"Are you alright, my love?" Katrina said.

"No," Roran said quietly. "But I don't want to talk about it."

Arya's parting words troubled him greatly. He knew she had not meant to hurt him but instead open his eyes to the cruel truth of destiny. The world now seemed empty, like the night sky void of any stars.


	6. A Peculiar Customer

Author's Note: For now I have exams but I will keep uploading. One thing is for certain is that we will meet Eragon next week. I hope you enjoy and review. This chapter is still as important as the rest. New chapters will be uploaded every Sunday.

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A Peculiar Customer

I - Edmond

Edmond had awoken early at dawn expecting someone unexpected to enter the front door of his bookshop. He kept the mysterious letter in front of him on the counter scrolled in the finest calligraphy he had ever seen. It stated:

 _I believe you are in possession of a rare book that I would simply love to get my hands on. Do not worry for you will be paid handsomely for it. Await my arrival come the earliest morning and we shall negotiate._

 _Many Regards._

He turned the letter suspiciously in his hand and smelled the lavender fragrance from it. It was definitely a woman, which was odd in itself. He rarely had women purchasing books from his shop. And a rich woman at that made it all the more rare.

Edmond sighed, waiting long enough to the point he realised this must have been a hoax concocted by one of the pauper boys down the street.

"Come on Edmond," he whispered to himself, "none of the boys can write something this fine."

Then he felt a sudden rumble beneath his feet and instinctively embraced the wooden counter for support. He waited a moment, counting the amount of times he exhaled his foggy breath. After the tenth he stood back up.

"What?" Edmond said, donning on his old cloak. He walked to the window right of the front door and what he saw squeezed his old, dying heart. A shadow of something long and spiky in the fog waved in the distance down the street. It then trailed off into the air, disappearing.

"That can't be," Edmond said, wiping the fog off the windows to catch the sight for a bit longer.

"What can't be?"

Edmond turned around. Smiling back at him innocently was a short woman with long black hair wearing a simple purple dress and red shoes. She stood three steps away from him.

"I didn't see you arrive," Edmond said, pressing himself back to the wall. Even though he towered over her her smile told him not to try anything rash.

"Of course you didn't see us old man," another voice said. "You were too busy looking out the window."

Edmond looked towards his counter and standing there was a young man wearing leather armour. He had a brown cloak tied behind his back that covered his belt. Edmond wanted to know if he was armed or not.

"Please excuse him," the woman said, "he is quite bitter during mornings."

"I would have seen you arrive," Edmond said shaking his head. "I was a professional ranger back in the days."

"Oh please," the man said. "It is clear you left for a reason."

That was true. He had indeed left ranging because he was terrible at it. These strangers didn't need to know that. But by the calm look the young man gave Edmond it seemed as if the young man knew everything about him.

"I do believe I sent you a letter," the woman said walking to the counter and standing beside the young man. At first, Edmond's suspicion was that they were a couple but looking at them together now he knew that could hardly be the case. Even if it was, he didn't care to ask. Mostly because he was afraid.

"It's here." The young man swiped the letter on the counter and passed it to the woman.

"Ah. There it is." The woman cast the letter in a small pouch at her breast.

"May I know your names?" Edmond asked.

"No, you may not," the young man said. He turned to the woman. "Find your stupid book and let us fly home. I will be waiting outside."

"Fly?" Edmond asked, then suddenly remembered the mysterious sight he saw moments before.

The woman chuckled. "By flying he means running."

"Oh," Edmond said, rolling his tongue in his cheek.

####

"We never really have educated women in this city," Edmond said. "Most of them are house wives or training to be one."

"I prefer education," the woman said, tracing her finger over the old leather bounds in awe. "These books are the rarest I have seen. It is a shame your business is dying down."

Edmond smiled. "With your money, it shall be saved."

"Ah," she turned to him grinning. "I get the book I want and save your noble enterprise. Ha! Now that's called killing two birds with one stone, or two pigeons if you want to be precise."

Edmond bowed gratefully. "Thank you my lady. My wife and sons will be pleased. The gods are certainly merciful."

"Yes…" the woman's smile turned to a frown and she started looking around for something.

"Have you lost something my lady?"

"Um…" She looked up causing Edmond to do the same. "I am not sure yet. I hope not. I cannot live without it."

"Oh…" Edmond said, escorting her further down the hall. "I will help you find it."

She laughed. "It will find me."

Inside Edmond grumbled. _There is no point making sense of all this. Just focus on the book_.

He stopped in front a glass case at the very end of the hall illuminated under a golden light. "This," Edmond said, pointing at the case, "is the most valuable book I have."

"Show me!" the woman said enthusiastically.

He took the book out of the glass case that had strange scratches on the front that formed an odd ' _S_ '. "I found this at Illirea on one of my expeditions," Edmond said. "The language in it is unusual. I suspect Galbatorix might have written it himself."

"That is quite the story," the woman said. "I'm hoping it is even more interesting than that."

"What could be more interesting than a dead man's secret?"

She grinned taking the book from him. Her eyes sparkled as she studied the front cover. "Secrets of someone still alive."

Then out of nowhere a cat jumped on the woman's shoulders. "Ah, there you are," the woman said. "I knew you would find me."


	7. Drovengard

Author's Note: Hi guys hope you are all doing well, last week had my exams so I could not upload this chapter because I had not completed it but finally it's here. Thanks for your support and your great reviews. So as long you guys keep those reviews coming I will keep these chapters coming. New chapters will be uploaded every Sunday.

* * *

Drovengard

I - Eragon

The little magical bird made of elm chirped loudly, blaring in Eragon's ears until he retrieved the timepiece and pressed a protruding switch upon its back, silencing the annoying chirp. He sighed in relief before smiling, the bird was effective. It was actually an experiment by one of the scholars in the library who had improved upon the conventional designs of timepieces. Instead of having to wind a timepiece whenever one wanted for it to go off, this new invention remembered the preferred time of ringing and would ring every day at that time thus eliminating the need for winding. It was one of the early inventions of the Scholars of Drovengard.

Eragon yawned loudly, he was still in his soft bed nestled within his quilt. The previous day's work had been long and arduous and he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. However, in doing that he would be piling up reports further and thus asking for Saphira's wrath, something he didn't enjoy in the mornings.

As that thought crossed his mind Saphira's warm consciousness merged with his. _That's quite wise of you,_ she said with slight humour.

 _I know,_ Eragon replied with a smile, _how are you today Saphira?_ he asked his closest companion and greatest friend.

 _I'm fine little one, and you?_ she asked, her voice taking on the motherly tone he was so used to by now.

 _Never better,_ said Eragon.

Saphira was out on her early hunt as Eragon felt a shivering breeze sweep past her body. Their bond over these ten years had grown so strong that he could feel every trickle of sense and sensation she felt. He didn't have to imagine what being a dragon felt like. Through Saphira, he experienced that desire.

Eragon took a deep breath inhaling the morning air, cold and fresh, before rising from his bed to stretch his stiff muscles. A chill ran up his spine as his feet touched the cool floor of his home which was entirely built of white stone. It was a simple home, its basic structure very similar to his tree house in Ellesméra. It had a circular vestibule with three screen doors embedded within the stone wall leading from the vestibule. One to an austere dining room, the second to a large study room and the third door opened to a bedroom within which Eragon stood at the moment.

After stretching, he headed to the balcony in the far end of the room, swerving past the huge, low-rimmed bowl set in the floor where Saphira normally slept. From inside his room Eragon could guess how cold it was going to be outside. His wards protected him from the weather as long as he remained within his room, but once he passed the threshold of his room into the balcony the wards became obsolete. He smiled, _no better way of fully waking up,_ and with that thought he passed the threshold of his room and a bone chilling wind instantly engulfed him. He was surrounded by thick fog, it made it impossible to see the ground far below. It was eerie up here, it was silent, all he could hear was the wind blowing past. Eragon stood there for a few moments before dimming flashes of light filled the fog. They shone in yellows, blues and greens and were accompanied by thundering roars. Eragon still could not see anything through the fog but he knew those flashes, he had seen them too many time before, _dragon fire_.

Thud! Thud! Thud! Eragon heard wing beats above him and as he looked up he saw an enormous black mass three times the size of Saphira fly overhead, its steely tail whipping through the fog before disappearing in its depths. A sudden shiver passed through him and he took it as a queue to go back inside. He returned to his bed and folded the bed sheets in a neat pile before sauntering into the washroom adjoined to his bedroom. Eragon washed his face and hands, welcoming the warm sensations coursing through his grizzled body. The water's temperature was perfect, it was controlled through the energy stored in a ruby embedded within the washroom wall. He examined the ruby's energy and like always it was full due to the _Eldunarí_ who were in sorts the power source of all rider structures in Drovengard. After washing, Eragon dried off, changed into a green leather coat and black trousers, attached his sword Brisingr to his waist belt, and finally groomed his hair. This unfortunately became his sort of ritual for the past couple of years and more so during winter since he had nothing else to do.

After washing, he headed to the kitchen attached to the dining room to prepare his breakfast. His breakfast consisted of slices of bread spread with jam along with fruits and a glass of berry juice. His proficiency in preparing food had improved drastically over time, it had become a hobby he spent some of his free time to further hone. Following breakfast, he headed towards the study to complete the reports sent to him by Blӧdhgarm, who had become a close friend over the years. Like always, beneath the study door he could see the soft yellow glow of the ever burning Erisdar lantern. Its glow always reminded him of the light within the great Dwarven cities built in the Beor Mountains. Opening the door, he strolled in past the numerous bookshelves towards his table in the far end of the room. His table was covered by the reports which had piled up over the last few days, however above all the reports was a blue leather bound book with a note attached on top.

 _Enjoy this book, it's filled with romance and we both know you need some of that in your life. The trees in the Elmdore Forest speak of spring soon approaching, which means I get to visit Drovengard again and the students get their awesome sword fighting teacher back._

 _Nimel_.

 _On a further note you look quite cute when you sleep._

Eragon shook his head, Nimel was never going to change. Nevertheless, as he thought about it a question irked him. How did Nimel enter his room while there were magical barriers protecting it? However, the answer came instantly. _Saphira_.

 _So it was you,_ Eragon said.

 _What was me? Excuse me?_

 _Seriously Saphira you really need to grow up._ However his words had no impact as Saphira was already booming with laughter. Eragon sighed, noting to himself to get Saphira back by some other means.

He opened the top drawer of his table and placed the book inside before settling down in his chair. The only other object on his table other than the reports was an inclined frame which held the Drovengard treaty. The treaty had been a great achievement that the elves and Eragon had accomplished when they first arrived in Ascillion. The treaty signified them as allies of the wood elves whose great forest lay before the city of Drovengard. When they had first arrived the many wood elves had not taken kindly to the future he promised to the land especially in the form of dragons. However, after many weeks of convincing and conversation, a pact between the three elven Lords and Eragon had formed, a pact which allowed them to live in Ascillion but on the condition that the city they would build would be open to the wood elves. Eragon agreed to the fact that all the levels of the city except the level specifically for the riders would be open to all and that would include a library with more knowledge than ever seen before. The wood elves agreed and helped Eragon build the city which took the better part of seven years to complete.

Eragon smiled, he was glad that pact had formed for through it he had met some wonderful people which included some teachers for his students. Returning his attention to the reports before him, Eragon sighed. Shifting through the sheaf of reports was admittedly menial work, but the sheer quantity kept him busy enough. Student progress reports, diplomatic treaties, guest lists for Drovengard, construction reports, cost reports, resource reports, and many other reports took the whole of his early morning.

Saphira reached Drovengard tower at noon, after having feasted on her prey in the forest of Elmdore, which was almost twice the size of Du Weldenvarden.

 _How was the weather like today?_ Eragon asked still shuffling through some reports.

 _Surprisingly more tranquil than before. Winter is nearly at an end._ Replied Saphira, settling in the large bowl structure in the floor.

 _After winter our situation can only get better,_ said Eragon _, after all, in this winter many of the winter crops also died out in the first level of the city._

 _The winter has always been much harsher here than the winter in Alagaesia, but this winter was the coldest we've ever had. Let's hope the next one is not as harsh._

Aye.

Reading the reports earlier than usual, Eragon decided to review the draft of the curriculum for the training of the New Order. All the instructors – including Eragon, Blӧdhgarm, Nimel, Yuron and Saphira – met regularly to make sure the curriculum was competent enough for training the next elite riders to defend not only Alagaesia, but many more lands like the Old Order had done. Training young riders, however, was something new for all the instructors. No one could boast that one had experience in such matters and so in that sense everyone was a novice when it came to tackling such a profession. The Eldunarí had the knowledge but it was one thing to have sufficient knowledge to teach something and the actual teaching itself.

Eragon sighed, laying back in his chair, Saphira had left earlier and he had only noticed now. He opened the top drawer of his table in order to see what the book Nimel had given him was about. As he pulled it out he shuffled some of the papers underneath the book revealing the edge of a white slate. He grasped the slate and removed it from his drawer to reveal a fairth he had made long ago. He didn't even remember he still had it. Eragon blocked his mind from Saphira's before swiping his hand over the surface of the fairth to remove the thin film of dust which had gathered upon it. As the dust cleared, he could see that on the white slate, dazzled by colours, was the portrait of an elf women. She was standing tall, garbed in a beautiful silver dress, while her raven black hair was perched on her shoulders, unbound by the band that normally imprisoned them. Her eyes, the green pools of emerald, were looking out of the fairth with a shine of amusement, a gesture mirrored by her lips which were also curved into a gentle smile. A sigh escaped his lips as he imagined what could have been. However as the steel grip of reality settled back in he placed the fairth back into the darkness of the drawer and locked it away.

The majority of the reports were finished and thus he decided he deserved a break. He left the study and headed for the balcony, he could hear distant roars which he knew were actually quite close but were supressed by the wards around the room. And once again as he stepped out into the openness of the balcony the weather and the sounds instantly invaded his senses. The air level at the height of his room was still cold and bitter but the fog had dramatically thinned out and the sun was in full force, warming the city in the vast valley below. Eragon looked down towards the city which glowed white due to the sunlight bouncing of the white rock from which it was constructed

He could now see the three walls each half a league apart marking the three levels of the city. He saw a host of elves patrolling on top of each wall. As he looked to the point where the walls were embedded into the mountains of the valley he could see the snow on their bases trickle in droplets to clear watery streams. The snow on the boughs of trees, peppered throughout the grassy plains within the city, melted in small tears, weeping in joy for the hopeful arrival of spring. Elves walked along the cobbled yellow pathways passing through one level of the city to another, while some he could see sitting on white benches reading while others performed the Rimgar on the open grassy plains. From Edoc'sil tower he could see the entirety of the city. A large host of elves, including his friend Yuron, entered the second level of the city from the third before manoeuvring past the various training grounds and disappearing into the Great Library of Drovengard.

Eagles, for the first time since the onset of winter, arrived in large convocations. Their shrill cries filled the air, drowning out all other sounds. They flew in from the open mouth of the valley and passed over the walls before circling above the city. A large host of them dove into the third level of the city, furthest away from him where the markets and abodes of the elves held plenty of food they could scavenge. He saw a few sitting on the glass dome of the great library in the second level of the city no doubt distracting the scholars working inside. One flew down from the sky and sat down on the stone railing of the balcony on _Edoc'sil_ right next to Eragon.

Immediately, the wild dragons roared, silencing the eagles and setting every other presence of nature on high alert. Eragon smiled and looked at the Erona Mountains, lair of the wild dragons, right behind the tower of Edoc'sil where many large caves had been carved into the mountain. Suddenly, a group of wild dragons of various colours flew out of the caves and lit the sky in rainbow fire, scorching the eagles before eating them as appetisers. The scene was surreal; dragons with all contrasts of skin and fire danced with all manner of magnificence making the hunt feel more like a theatrical performance rather than the brutal hunt it was. He watched as the remaining eagles scrambled away and the dragon sailed over the city towards Elmdore forest in order to hunt for more prey.

As he was admiring the land, Saphira's soft voice re-entered his mind. _What are you doing little one? When will you learn that you can never admire a land more than when you lay eyes upon it from the sky?_

Eragon could sense the pride emanating in her voice. _Well I'll have to admit that,_ he said, his lips twitching into a gentle smile as the memories of sailing through the clouds on Saphira's back while the wind tore at his body rushed into his mind. _By the way, where are you?_ Asked Eragon looking for his blue speck in the sky.

 _It had been a while since I had washed my scales so I decided to take a swim, and as to where I am, well let's just say right above you,_ and as she said that he heard strong wings beating in the air above him and saw her figure sail through the clouds before landing in the balcony with a gentle thud, the eagle on the railing tried to escape but in flash Saphira had eaten it.

 _Nothing like a quick swim in the morning,_ Saphira said, folding her massive wings and enjoying the gentle breeze playing upon her glistening scales, which sparkled that much more due to the droplets of water clinging to them.

 _I was growing fond of that eagle you know, you didn't have to eat it._

 _Well I didn't have to but I guess I did, anyway only one predator can call Edoc'sil home and that's certainly not a flying chicken._

Eragon laughed before stepping forward and embracing his dragon's head, which had grown much larger since their arrival in Ascillion. It was a silent moment in which nothing was spoken, a moment in which they listened to the wind blow and the soft cries of the birds in the distance, a moment of peace and love, one which told them without words spoken that they loved each other more than anything in the world.

 _Little one…,_

 _Saphira…just think where we would be today if I had sold your egg all those years ago,_

 _Well I don't know where I would be but you would definitely be working on some farm, cleaning a barn most likely,_

 _Is that so?_

 _Yes, very much so, however I don't think you would be a very successful farmer, with your undying curiosity I doubt you would be capable of sowing the same fields over and over each year._

Eragon laughed, _hmmm I guess you're right._

Just then a gentle knock was heard on the front door causing Eragon and Saphira to avert their attention to the entrance.

"May I enter Shadeslayer?" asked an elegant voice which Eragon knew quite well.

"Yes, you may," replied Eragon, walking back into his room.

Opening the door, an elf entered, his blue fur rippling in the tender breeze.

Raising his hand to meet his lips, the elf greeted Eragon in the traditional elven greeting which Eragon kindly returned.

"So what's up Blödhgarm?" asked Eragon in a very casual tone, one which was now normal between him and the blue furred elf.

"Shadeslayer, the wood elves have asked me to relay a message to you, they are saying that there is an urgent matter that they must discuss with you, one regarding Alagaesia. They have asked me to notify you that tomorrow morning they would like to see you in the village of Cilith."

"How could the wood Elves know anything of Alagaesia?" Eragon muttered, more to himself than any other in the room, however the keen elven ears of Blödhgarm heard and the elf shrugged in an attempt to relay that he had no idea.

 _Well we will only find out once we meet them,_ replied Saphira, _so ready for the morning flight?_

 _Of course,_ replied Eragon before turning towards Blödhgarm."Very well Blödhgarm, we will go to the wood Elves tomorrow morning, in our absence could you keep an eye on the riders?"

"Of course Shadeslayer," replied Blödhgarm with a gentle nod, "I will see you at the training grounds then."

Eragon returned the nod, and turning away from the Elf, approached Saphira before climbing into the hollow of her neck where a black leather saddle was fit just for him. Once he strapped himself in he felt the wave of excitement that always entered his body before he flew with Saphira.

 _Ready little one?_ asked Saphira in an excited tone.

 _I'm ready,_ replied Eragon, gently patting Saphira on her neck. Just as the words were spoken mentally, Saphira launched off the balcony. Her wings beat heavily, propelling them almost vertically at great speed towards the majestic sky and before he knew it, they were sailing among the misty clouds, a realm which belonged to them.

####

They flew among the clouds for a while before Saphira said, _you should have talked to them you know,_ in a gentle tone.

 _What do you mean, 'I should have talked to them'?_

 _I mean talking to Garron and Roran and all your family in Alagaesia, it was his birthday yesterday and all you did was send him a gift. I bet anything that hearing your voice would have been the greatest gift you could have ever given him,_ said Saphira in a sombre tone.

Understanding and grief gripped at Eragon causing his stomach to clench, _I know Saphira, but you also know I can't…,_ he sighed resting his head in his hands.

 _Little one, for years now your friends have asked after you, even Arya, and each time you ask Blödhgarm to say you're busy elsewhere or speak only of formal matters with them. Eragon you need to let your friends in so they can not only hear your problems but tell you their own. Alagaesia still needs us Eragon… our friends still need us,_

 _Saphira, we have gone through this many times before and my answer is the same as it always was,_

 _I don't get you Eragon,_ Saphira said in an irritated and angry tone, _on one side you miss them every second of your life, but on the other you refuse to talk to them, where is the sense in that!_

 _I tried Saphira! You know I tried, every day for two years and all it did was hurt. Looking at them, my people, my family and all it reminded me was of what I had left behind and what I could never return to and that Saphira I couldn't take,_

 _So what, you will just pretend you're not here whenever they try and contact you or briefly talk to them for no more than a minute on formal topics before ending the conversation?_

 _Yes, Saphira, I will! If it lessens the pain, I will!_

 _Saphira sighed, I understand what you're going through Eragon, I truly do, I'm a part of you, I feel what you feel, but not talking to your friends is not the answer, we cannot allow a prophecy to control our lives,_

 _It was more than that Saphira, you were there… I know you remember,_ and just then the words he had heard all those years ago filled his mind. _'You cannot change your fate, no man can'._

 _An old man warning us of death should not stop us, we choose our fate Eragon, we make our own destiny._

Eragon did not respond so she continued. _Your family does not have the long life we have Eragon. Roran, Katrina, Ismira and Garron. Your fate has been cast and they can't wait for an eternity just to see you or even talk to you, therefore enjoy those around you while you still have time,_

 _Don't speak like that Saphira,_ pleaded Eragon in a defeated tone.

 _But it's the truth little one, the greatest truth about life is the inevitability of death._

Following this statement, they flew in silence for a while. Eragon watched as a flock of birds flew beside them, arched like the head of an arrow. For some reason they were not afraid to fly beside Saphira and in a strange way it felt nice like they had companions in the sky.

 _Maybe these birds have come from Alagaesia, maybe we've flown beside them before,_ he thought watching them.

 _We both know we cannot return, but will you at least talk to them?_ inquired Saphira, turning her head to fix a deep, blue eye on him.

 _I will try,_ replied Eragon, losing the battle he knew he could never win.


	8. The New Order

Author's Note: Hi guys. Sorry for the late update as I had to drive from one city to another on Sunday for business purposes. Thank you for all the reviews. From now on at the bottom of each chapter I will respond to reviews regarding speculation or feedback. I know you have a lot of questions that need answered. New chapters will be uploaded every Sunday.

An Arya chapter will be coming out soon.

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The New Order

I - Eragon

As the wind howled outside his balcony Eragon downed another cup of wine as he contemplated using the scry mirror. Ever so faintly he heard Saphira's deep breaths in the bedroom. He used the opportunity to send her phantom thoughts, claiming he was asleep beside her and dreaming. He didn't want her to know. _I promised I would try_.

There was a dull ache in his chest, a constant pain which reminded him of Durza's blade that had struck his back long ago. For a moment he sat in contemplation, gritting his teeth, while laying his chin upon his knuckles. His eyes were sore from the lack of sleep, his body smelled of sweat, while his hair was tangled in a mess. He poured himself another cup of wine from the jug and skulked it down. No matter how hard he tried his thoughts lingered inside him like some incurable disease.

Finally, Eragon knew he had to make a decision. Try now, or never try again. He threw the wine cup away in anger he didn't know he felt. Stepping closer to the scry mirror his heart beat so fast it was sickening.

He touched the cold surface of the scry mirror, sending shivers through his body, even though his study was adequately warm. Closing his eyes, feeling something trickle down to his cheek, he said the words. The mirror distorted into swirling smoke, taking a lot longer than usual as the distance was so far away.

The image settled upon a palatial room with the sun shining straight at him through red curtains. Upon the wall next to the curtains was a painting of Eragon and Roran smiling together. The smiles upon their faces were of such hope, youth, and mischievousness. It symbolized the naïve hope that they would somehow be reunited again.

Eragon wiped the sweat from his brow and temple, straightened back his long, matted hair, and breathed steadily to settle his aching chest. Ever so faintly he heard laughter, then a silhouette of two figures appeared behind the curtains. They were dancing together.

"Roran," Eragon whispered, realising the taller of the two was his cousin. At the back of his mind a loud voice spoke. _You cannot change your fate. No man can_. It played in his mind over and over again, until he gave in and let the magic that powered the scry mirror slip away. The image of his cousin dissolved into smoke and showed Eragon's haggard form in reflection. Tears streamed down and his breathing turned shallow and labored. He closed his eyes, disgusted at himself for not being brave.

"I can't," Eragon whispered. _I can't hurt them seeing me after a long time and knowing I can never return_. With that thought he closed his eyes, evaporating his thoughts of home in a forever-lost memory.

####

Saphira landed hard upon the paved courtyard on the first level of the city, issuing a resounding force through Eragon's chest. Clapping thrice upon her fine scales Saphira lowered her body and Eragon slid off. He tightened the leather threads on his scabbard then straightened the loose hair away from his eyes.

It was early in the morning but not enough so that the fog blinded everything. The wind last night had scattered twigs, large branches and rocks everywhere upon the courtyard. What had happened last night, Eragon needed to forget.

 _I loathe review day_ , Saphira said.

Eragon smiled. _I have a feeling we might find some actual improvements. But don't tell your pupils that._

 _You don't have to worry. I never allow them to boast in front of me. And how can they?_

 _You're right._

As neither had much time Saphira ascended and headed towards the Erona Mountains. It was a sight to behold seeing her scales ripple with the sunrise. In no moment she was but a shadow the size of a butterfly.

The Rider Institute seemed an ageless structure even though it was completed a few years ago. It wasn't built to impress in terms of grandeur — a lofty stone building with wide balconies and tall windows — but the isolated location and the wide courtyard humbled anyone living inside. Seeing the mountains tower over them, listening to the wild dragons roar all day, smelling the variegated aromas around them, reminded even the most naïve that they were nothing compared to the power of the land.

As he neared the front entrance of the Institute the wide oak doors – large enough for even Saphira to enter – opened of their own accord and he stepped inside.

The great hall, or more generally referred to as the common room, had grown more personalized since the new riders had joined. It was massive enough and tall enough to host a family of dragons, while having enough room for other residents to roam about. The tall windows insured that no one needed lanterns in the day as light filtered through in plentiful amounts. The far end of the common room had a grand winding staircase that led to various living chambers upstairs and to the arena below. Within the common room Eragon had given free reign to the first riders to decorate the place however they liked. His students had definitely wasted no time in taking advantage of the opportunity.

Next to the fireplace was a large marble bust of the first urgal rider, Kallurga — crudely made however, with the nose a bit too flat and the lips a bit too fat — and ingrained below it said: _The first rider. Make our race proud._ Leaning against the bust was Kallurga's axe, the face of the blade reflecting the haunting light from the fireplace. Within the large glass case, pushed against the wall next to the velvet sofas, was Dorrin's bronze armour. He was from Tronjheim and had studied under Orik. Dorrin's father had fashioned the armour for him as a parting gift, and Dorrin thought it appropriate to have it facing the marble bust as if sizing Kallurga up. The bookcase set against the back wall was filled with Orrios's books and his alone, stating quite clearly his elvish nature to pursue knowledge. Of Avelin's belongings — the human rider — Eragon didn't find anything, but then deceptively hidden at the far left corner was a small carpet. Upon inspecting it the carpet showed a waterfall set behind a small house next to a riverbank. It was Avelin's home.

Eragon smiled. _That is Avelin alright_. Apart from personal items the common room was furnished luxuriously – thanks to Yaela's decorative sensibility – to allow the riders comfort in times of hardship.

What was interesting about the hall was that everyone had clearly marked their territory with their belongings. No one shared space with everyone and everything was separated quite a distance apart. It was small details like these that affirmed Eragon's belief that the riders were not getting along. Some used this as proof that Eragon should not have deliberately meddled in having the first riders be from individual races.

As he made himself home in the common room his solitude was cut short by quick, fast steps coming down the winding staircase. Turning back, he saw Nimel race down the steps.

"Is that who I think it is?" Nimel said, as Eragon stood up to meet her.

Everything about Nimel spelled adventure. Her tilted smile, her long brown unkempt hair, a sword and bow at the ready, muddy shoes, and of course her enthusiasm for meeting new friends and old. She raced up to Eragon and embraced him, the smell of fresh grass, mud and rain assaulting him all at once.

"Nimel. You should have told me you were arriving this soon," Eragon said.

Parting slowly Nimel's expression turned into a curious frown. "I thought we agreed on Nim."

"Sorry, _Nim_."

"As for my arrival. Didn't you find the book?"

Eragon chuckled. "A touching gesture. On top of all the reports there is now a giant book I have to get through."

Nimel raised her right brow, nodding. "You better read it. I put a lot of thought into what might cheer you up."

"Ah, the winter depression. How many other exaggerated claims did Saphira report to you?"

"Give her credit, Eragon. She looks out for you. Is it really that bad she reached out to me?"

"You have your duties and I have mine." Eragon said with a smile.

Nimel sighed, realising the conversation was leading nowhere. "We might have our separate duties. But not when it comes to _them_." She emphasised the _them_ by jerking her head upwards.

Eragon's smile faltered. "How do they look?"

"Nervous. What do you expect?"

"I expect them to improve. Alagaesia needs them sooner than I thought. As far as the people at home are concerned I abandoned them."

"No," Nimel stated, for the first time her expression turning serious. "Whatever it is that is stopping you from going back, fix it…as soon as possible. But don't put your student's lives in danger because of what you think your people in Alagaesia feel towards you. Your students still need time."

"They had four years. I had less facing the greatest threat in existence."

Nimel raised a finger, "Well technically only Orrios has had four years. Avelin, Dorrin, and Kallurga have only been riders for two. But anyhow in your case destiny had a big part to play. Their paths will take more time. And you understand that more than I do."

She was right, but then again she was always right. He had to bury his fears of what Alagaesia thought of him and had to think about what was right for his students.

"Oh, and by the way," Nimel said. "Lord Lorofell wants to meet you this late afternoon."

Eragon sighed, "Well, let us tackle one battle at a time."

####

Upstairs, gathered on the first floor balcony, was hopefully the New Order to be. The sun shone with all its wonderful glory on the grimmest looking individuals on the face of the world. Leaning against the main stone column was Kallurga, gently punching the stone marble, and not realising he was creating cracks. Dorrin had a small pocketknife out, scraping the mud off his boots while Avelin was biting her nails, muttering something low in her breath. Out of them Orrios was the only one who looked calm, he was simply leaning against a column watching the others.

Once Eragon and Nimel made their presence known everyone straightened up in attention. Avelin stopped chewing, while Kallurga tried his best to hide the dent in the column by placing himself at the front.

"If you haven't prepared," Eragon said, "you would do abysmally. You had the whole winter."

Everyone nodded.

"Cheer up, everyone," Nimel said. "Master Eragon brings forth some hope." It was clear that Nimel played to the student's emotions and that she was closer to them than he was. In her presence they were always calm and open but with him they seemed unsure, and always a little distant.

"Well…yes." Eragon said, seeing Nimel's smile turn to a grin. "I can tell you now what you can expect in the demonstration."

"I want to see Roselin, Ebrithil" Avelin said.

"Your dragons have been separated for now with good reason," Eragon said. "You would have to manage without their knowledge."

"I thought the point of being a rider was you always had someone by your side," Dorrin said.

"Not always," Eragon said pointedly. "Sometimes you have to manage by your own without the vast knowledge of your dragons. Believe me, I know."

"In other words it is your abilities we are testing," Nimel said. "Your dragons depend as much upon your experience as you do theirs. If…" Nimel tapped the side of her head. "…there is an imbalance of experience you are only going to hurt each other."

"That is why armies keep their veterans together," Eragon said. "Experience on both sides makes you formidable."

"Understood, Ebrithil," Orrios said, in his soothing voice. "You were about to reveal to us our tasks."

"Your first task will require you to demonstrate the techniques regarding the correct use of linguistic naming," Eragon said. "Remember, the proper accent is required to call upon the various elements in the ancient language." He chuckled as he thought about Elva, and said, "I learnt that the hard way."

Nimel then spoke. "Your second task is pretty much showing how you control the amount of energy you expend in a single incantation. Make your incantation as precise as possible, while expending the least amount of energy. Yuron plans to award the student who shows the most efficiency."

"Ha," Dorrin said, "Yuron will probably keep the award to himself. He never seems pleased either way you put it."

"The third task is difficult," Eragon said. "You will attempt to penetrate the minds of one of our elite guards." As he explained each task the students began to fiddle.

"Next, all of you will attempt to beat me in a sword duel," Nimel said with a wink. "Teamwork is essential here. And I won't go easy." The expression on everyone's faces turned to shock. They looked at each other as if noticing for the first time that they lived together. Eragon had a feeling that the sword fight would end up being a disaster. Nimel was a master at what she did and several times she had even given Eragon a hard time in the arena.

"The last two tasks will require you to first demonstrate the anatomy of your dragons," Eragon said. "Finally, the hardest and last task. You will attempt to locate where your dragons are within the Erona Mountains through mental communication. To make it interesting it will be a competition to see who locates theirs first."

Avelin's expression changed to worry but Eragon gave her a gentle smile "Rest assured they are completely safe. Master Saphira is giving them flight drills, as far as they are concerned."

"Alright," Nimel said, clapping her hands. "That seems wonderful, don't you think? You've studied for this I am sure." Avelin, Dorrin and Kallurga nodded awkwardly while Orrios smiled with confidence.

"In two minutes you will head down to the arena," Eragon said.

Of all the shocks and confusion that came their way this was the greatest. Eragon had no doubt that they had trained to face these sorts of tasks. The issue was implementing that knowledge into practicality in front of all their masters.

Eragon and Nimel left their students and headed down the winding staircase at the far end of the hall. Every ten steps the sconces adjacent to them lit up of their own accord, lighting the grey stones in a bright blue light, all the way to the bottom.

Leading up to the arena was a hallway lined with statues on either sides, depicting various basic stances in a duel – both aggression and defence – of a rider and dragon. It enforced the student's mindset to focus on their basics, rather than focusing too much on the advanced lessons. The maxim went: the one who masters the basics already commands the initial stage in a duel.

Just like the staircase the hallway lit up in progression as they walked forth. The smell of steel, ash, and an odd aroma of melted wax permeated in the air. The stronger the smell, the more recently one could tell the arena had been in use. By the strength of the smells the students had been down here last night. It gave Eragon some hope that they might be a few surprises than last year's demonstration, which to his recollection, was a nightmare for all but Orrios, who had shown great promise.

At the end of the hall stood Blӧdhgarm; the fur on his apparel waved in the air due to the constant airflow that was fed into the arena.

"Morning," Nimel said, her voice echoing as if she had announced it to the whole city.

That caught Blӧdhgarm off-guard as he expected someone else at Eragon's side. His whole regal composure was lost in one awkward hand wave towards Nimel. Eragon barely managed to smother his laughter.

"I didn't expect you to be here," Blӧdhgarm said, watching Nimel intently as if Eragon was an apparition in the room.

"I surely hope not," Nimel said, tilting her head slightly in question. "Did you think I would be mauled by a bear along the way?"

Blӧdhgarm shifted in his place uneasily.

Nimel continued. "Or did you forget that I am a master as well?"

"Of course not," Blӧdhgarm said. "Master Eragon made it clear that all the masters have to be-"

"-present during the yearly demonstration," Nimel finished, drumming out the words slowly to make an obvious point.

"Yes," Blӧdhgarm said calmly, his emotionless elvish mask back in place.

"Shall we?" Eragon said, pointing at the open double doors behind Blӧdhgarm.

The arena ran under the courtyard and was wider. In the centre was an elaborate hoist powered by magic, which elevated dragons from the arena and into the courtyard, or vice versa. All manner of weapons, armour, and obstacles was available in the arena to practice against any situation. The walls were high enough to allow the dragons to practice climbing and even flying, given a certain age, which Saphira was past. At the far end was an inclined podium from which instructors or masters could observe with a magical barrier to protect them from dragon fire. A nice touch, which Nimel had put into the design of the arena, was to have it ringed with lit torches, and to have the symbol of the first free dragons laid upon the ground in a vibrant mosaic. Of course the effect of the mosaic lessened because of the scorch marks on it, but it gave it a nice, gritty edge, which seemed appropriate for the venue.

The rest of the masters sat in their comfortable seats in the podium, organising sheafs of papers while quietly murmuring to each other. They all stood, to Eragon's honour, once Yuron recognised who was walking towards the podium.

Yuron was the head of scholarly studies and ran the library of Drovengard. He had long silver hair that reached to his shoulders and wore a red robe threaded with gold at the seams. One never found Yuron without a book and his writing equipment in hand. The other masters on the podium was Master Yaela, who was head of weapon craftsmanship and also helped Nimel with sword combat training. The Eldunarí, along with Eragon and Saphira, were head of the Rider Institute, while Blӧdhgarm was the head of mage combat. Saphira was also tasked with flight training. All in all it was an elite group of the most talented teachers Eragon could assemble.

He entered the podium, which was narrow and long, lit under sconces of white lights, and lined with writing desks and velvet-cushioned chairs. The door behind the podium led to a small room for mostly refreshments and general meetings between each task to discuss the new curriculum for the year. At other times the room was mostly a throwaway space for old weapons and armour. From the podium the height of the room provided the perfect vantage point over the whole arena.

Eragon sat between Blӧdhgarm and Nimel and took out a sheaf of papers, quill and ink and organised it in on the smooth oak table. Shortly after, the riders entered the arena and stood in front of the podium with their heads held high before bowing respectfully.

Eragon stood up and read them their first task, and said. "May the stars guide you today."

Blӧdhgarm made final adjustments to his notes and read out the specifics of the first task. "The torches that you see around you – extinguish them all at once. I am looking for creative incantations. Focus on the elements available to you in the arena, and do not expend more energy than you have."

It was a tall order as there were more than a thousand torches ringed around the arena. The riders were issued into the preparation room under the podium and were called once the previous rider had finished their demonstration. In the end of the first task only Orrios managed to convincingly expunge the torchlights in one simple incantation, by redirecting the air being pumped into the arena and blowing it outwards. Avelin used a sound as loud as a thunderclap and managed to blow out most, but not all the torches. However, Blӧdhgarm smiled while writing Avelin's comments down, meaning he was impressed by the creativity she showed. Dorrin's idea of draining the torch fuel was ambitious but ultimately the incantation he issued had pronunciation flaws and managed only to inflame the torches rather than extinguish them. He was given a second try in which he used a method similar to Orrios' and was more successful with it. Kallurga was the surprise no one expected as he noted that the air was pumped down through open vents. He blocked the vents to snuff the oxygen from the room. However the podium had to wait a long time for the air to drain out and in the end it took too long for the torches to finally extinguish, ultimately being ineffective. However that was not the surprise. Kallurga had managed to pronounce his incantation perfectly, and was direct in his approach.

The second task led on from the principles of the first where the riders had to levitate as high as they could into the air with an incantation of their own choosing which did not drain their energy too much. Everyone performed well in this as the principles of levitation was drilled into their minds by rote. However, Kallurga initially cast an incantation that threw him violently forward, however before he crashed into the podium he cast another which stopped his movement and simply held him in the air. Everyone in the podium sighed in relief.

Yuron smiled at the results. "Looks like all of them will be invited to the Enia Tathriel celebrations." Eragon chuckled. _So much for Dorrin doubting Yuron's reward_.

The mind reading challenge, was well, a challenge. Only Avelin managed to extract some useful information from the guard but ultimately it was not enough to impress. Eragon wasn't happy with the result, he and Glaedr had spent a lot of time teaching them about the power of their minds however it seemed their lessons were ineffective.

The sword duel, in summary, was an entertainment of mishaps and egotism. It was clear the riders hadn't chosen a leader from among them in their planning time when discussing how to defeat Master Nimel. In the end a fight broke out between Dorrin and Kallurga while Orrios and Avelin gave up on even trying to work together. Nimel danced through all their attempts, ultimately tying them up in a neat tangle before Eragon had seen enough and ended the task.

Nimel came back to the podium with a broad smile. "That went wonderful."

"For you, you mean," Blӧdhgarm said.

Nimel laughed. "Of course. They didn't stand a chance."

"This can only mean you will have to train them harder," Eragon said. "It reflects you as a teacher as equally as their abilities shown today."

"And I shall do that Master Eragon," Nimel said with a slight scowl.

The riders were given a small break before the last consecutive tasks commenced. Everyone had a perfect score with the dragon anatomy challenge to which Eragon smiled. _Saphira will be proud her work has paid off_. The last, and hardest challenge, was the long communication the riders had to establish with their dragons in the Erona Mountains. Orrios did it instantly due to his background in magic however for the others it took a lot longer. After all the tasks were complete Eragon stood up, and spoke out loud. "I want to congratulate our riders. You have shown some remarkable skills today."

The riders breathed out in relief, collapsing to the ground after standing for a long time.

"The clear winner of today's demonstration is Orrios, followed by Avelin, Dorrin and Kallurga," Glaedr said. "This year we can finally teach you some advanced courses, but there are some basic courses you shall have to revise."

As Glaedr drummed on with his criticisms and praises Nimel gently elbowed Eragon on the hip.

"What is it?" Eragon whispered.

Nimel glared at him. "Lord Lorofell. Or did you forget?"

 _Oh no_. Eragon contacted Saphira. _Saphira?_

 _Yes, little one._

 _Do whatever you need to prepare. We have a long ride to the Elmdore Forest and not much time._

* * *

End Note: Read and review :).

Brobe kyant: There was a hint in the Drovengard chapter as to something stopping Eragon. Something which he fears (more will be revealed later). Because of that he feels the prophecy told by Angela was right all along and he cannot return.


	9. A Fragile Peace

I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I had enjoyed writing it. Here the plot takes an interesting turn. Please share your thoughts.

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A Fragile Peace

I - Arya

Sitting on the knotted throne Arya traced a finger over her armrest, the familiar chill of the dark lustrous surface coursing through her skin. She wanted to detach her thoughts from the council meeting at hand, from the constant bickering.

"The Surda Games are the perfect opportunity to present our claim on Ilirea," Arinor said, gaining nods of approbation from his side of the council. "That is the day we shall remind the humans that they need to humble themselves before us. Nasuada, an educated woman, _knows_ the historical importance of that city. Yet, brazenly she makes it her capital! That is an insult we must answer to."

Arya's political obstacles began and ended with Arinor. Svelte and tall, he had a charismatic frame that naturally gravitated attention. The way he spoke was articulate, intimate and inviting. He would stride briskly, always making sure he was accompanied by an impressive entourage.

While many perceived these qualities to be noble gifts, Arya saw them as cold and calculating. Arinor kept his smile neither wide or tight, and displayed it for neither a long or short amount of time. She noticed he wore a trim pearl-white coat, signalling to her that he planned to give a long, impressive speech. And she was precisely right. She saw through his façade like clear water. _I may be lenient, but I am not a fool._

"What would you have us do Councillor Arinor?" Arya said, levelling her tone. "Go to war?"

"Nasuada stands on a precarious position, my queen. Might I add that she also needs us to maintain peace within her realm."

 _Is this what is expected of me? To pull the rug out from beneath my allies when they are vulnerable?_

"We don't betray signed agreements," Talvinus stated, sitting across from Arinor. "What you're suggesting is an immense gamble. A gamble that could cost Alagaesia its peace. Aren't we all tired of making enemies?"

Arinor smiled. "It is in Nasuada's best interest that she not allow us to be her enemies. But our softness with her is making her over-ambitious. Humans have laughed and mocked us, for years, and they shall keep doing it, for years. Only when we show our strength will they start to respect us."

"I had made my position clear," Talvinus said. "While I did not support my queen's decision to hand over Ilirea I shall defend her position to maintain peace."

Ever since that controversial decision Arya had to claw back popular support. _I can still see that it pains Talvinus to mention Ilirea._

"It is a misunderstanding that I do not desire peace," Arinor said, turning towards Arya. "I always stood beside your mother. Stood behind her decision to keep our people in peaceful hiding, rather than fight Galbatorix. So, I do not want to be perceived as actively seeking war. I want the dignity of our people back. With all due respect, my queen, your mother would not have supported letting Ilirea go. She would not have supported allowing Carvahall to amass power near our border. She would not have supported Nasuada maintaining a stronghold over the Council of Eüdh."

Watching the image of her mother disappointed troubled her. _This discussion is leading to nowhere._

She stood from her throne. "There is a lot of confusion among our people of where we are heading. To elevate those concerns I shall speak with Nasuada personally. However, let there be one thing clear: we shall never resolve our issues with intimidation." She sat back down. "That is all for today."

Arinor displayed a hint of achievement, that he was finally beginning to have influence on the council more than he did before. _He is probably thinking on how to twist the knife deeper next time_.

As every councillor left the room Arya felt her body slowly unwind. She rested her head back against the cold surface of her lonely throne.

The overcast began to clear, while there was still a mutter of thunder in the distance. Spring rains had arrived in plentiful amounts this season, fuelling the energy of the forest. The sun, glorious and fiery orange, embraced Arya with warmth, blooming the hall with golden light. Her mind was being pulled from two ends; the sun enticing her to leave everything behind, while the throne pulled her back to her duty. What she needed was the perspective of a close friend, and just in time Fírnen melded his mind with hers.

 _How long must I keep young Fiora company?_ asked Fírnen.

Arya smiled. _I would say the whole day. The poor child is very lonely with Loriel._

 _They say dragons should responsibly carry the weight of the land upon their shoulders. And here I am watching a young girl._ _Wonderful, she has begun to climb my tail._

 _Responsibility isn't as thrilling as we make it out to be._

 _How did the council meeting go? I am guessing the charming Arinor wouldn't let Ilirea go._

 _I understand where he is coming from. My father had also died defending Ilirea._

 _To make decisions emotionally is folly my young queen. While many do not see the wisdom behind your decision, I do. Your sacrifice to let Ilirea go was a symbolic trust of peace, and a reassurance of your ability to rule, without emotion dictating your actions. Otherwise, we might be embroiled in a catastrophic war for that city._

 _It didn't stop the two wars that we had._

 _At least you are fighting weaker foes than Nasuada. Not to mention Murtagh still looms. He would side with Nasuada if there was a war, and his experience is much greater than ours. Even if we did eventually win it would cost more lives than what Illirea is worth._

 _But what if there was a peaceful way?_

 _The chance to peacefully claim Ilirea rested upon Eragon's shoulders. I believe he had a reason for not bringing it up soon after the war ended._

 _He could have done great things for Alagaesia. Yet his last act was to end a war._

 _An impressive feat for someone so young. Oh, there she goes again…_

 _What is it?_

 _Young Fiora wants me to fly as high as I can while she watches. At least I could hunt birds in those precious seconds._

 _Keep her happy. I shall see you tonight._

 _Also, my young queen, I should remind you. Loriel wants to speak to you. She was heading to Tialdari Hall just now._

Arya promptly left the throne room, casting not a single glance towards the councillors and ambassadors gathered in loud murmuring inside the rotunda.

Near the tall, chased metal doors, that led to her private quarters, stood a single guard, his gloved hands gripping the pommel of his sword as he held his head low. One didn't need to inquire about his experience, as it showed by his dark, steely-eyed gaze. His white cloak draped to his ankles, revealing a breastplate emblazoned with the Menoa Tree. He had stood there all morning. By his presence alone anyone seeking to harm Arya would think twice.

As she made her presence known Thehrendil raised his head, his hard gaze replaced by a soft smile. He bowed low, sheathing his sword in the formal salute of the Elvenguard. "May the stars watch over you, my queen."

Arya acknowledged him with a nod as he stood by her side. There were not many individuals left in Du Weldenvarden that had served her father closely. Thehrendil was one of them, a veteran guard of more than five hundred years.

"I presume it went as usual?" Thehrendil asked. He picked out from his pocket a chocolate candy wrapped in soft paper and held it out to her. Giving her small treats was something he had done for Arya when he had first seen her along with her father, and he continued to do so ever since.

Arya smiled before taking the candy. "If my mother had ever caught you giving me these everyday…".

"I would've been in trouble," said Therehndil, chuckling. "She was always very protective of you."

"That she was," she said, remembering those days.

A brief silence descended between them before Thehrendil asked, "Where would my queen like to be escorted?"

"It's been an exhausting morning," said Arya with a deep breath. "Loriel wants to discuss some matter, so I'll wait for her in my quarters."

He nodded letting her walk in front before he followed. As they walked, she glanced outside through the arched windows. A single road — paved with smooth stones and shaded by tall oak trees — meandered through the luxuriant gardens. From every corner of the realm gardeners contributed various plant specimens when they visited the capital. The smell of freshly cut grass and fragrant flowers permeated through the gardens and into the Hall — leaves rustled under the gentle breeze. In the gardens, hardly anyone was present, apart from a group of girls sitting atop a high branch, and a few children chasing rabbits through the meadow field. During spring, many people in Ellesméra gathered near the cool streams in Tèlvar Falls.

Although Arya found the lonely peace comforting, her heart yearned for the thundering clouds in the distance. It reminded her of the thrill when facing battle. The vengeance that had embroiled in her heart, due to Durza's torture, had never really tamed. Part of her felt sickened that she missed her old life, knowing the horrors she had witnessed.

"Thehrendil?" Arya said suddenly, hoping to divert her mind.

"My queen?"

"Have you found the new Elvenguard for me?"

"Well," he said, clearly taken back by the sudden question, "ever since word got out, hundreds from the Elven Legion put forth their names. There was one volunteer who managed to impress me."

"Oh?" Arya inquired. Thehrendil was hardly ever impressed.

"Indeed," he said with a light chuckle. "Her name is Evien."

"Where does she currently serve?"

"In General Arl's guard, my queen. In fact, she is the youngest soldier to volunteer for the Elvenguard. Thirty years younger than your excellency, I believe."

"Impressive." Arya had also learnt to fight at a young age.

"She certainly is impressive," Thehrendil said aloud. "The way she manoeuvres her blade is as if it was a limb of her own. Yet, I am reserved about her age, mainly owing to her lack of experience. It takes much more than being a great fighter to be an Elvenguard. One needs judgement as well."

"Then why is she at the top of your list?"

His smile grew wider. "You would hardly believe what I had witnessed. She had overcome four of the Elvenguards during her trial. At first, when she proclaimed her challenge to duel an Elevenguard, I took her down as being arrogant. The way she fought, however…I saw courage in her eyes unlike anything I had seen. Afterwards, she cornered me at the end of the trials – told me that it was her dream to serve in the Elvenguard."

Arya smiled before turning towards Thehrendil. "Take my advice. Promote her. She sounds quite…unique."

"I do not take things lightly when it comes to your life, my queen. If the stars show me a path, I will make the decision by the end of the month."

"Say, that you do not take my advice–"

"Or that Field Marshal Däthedr refuses my choice. He has the final say."

"I will deal with him. Your approval is the only discretion I am willing to allow for this matter. Anyway, if you do not take my advice, I still wish to meet her."

"I'll certainly arrange that."

"Very well."

By now they had begun climbing the broad, pearl-white steps; the entrance towards the royal abode. During times of battle, guards would be posted at every room, but in times of peace Thehrendil thought it fit to post only twelve guards. Magic was the real secret to Arya's safety; any intruder within several feet would be incinerated in less than half an eye blink. The guards were only a final resort in case someone — or something — miraculously evaded the magical barriers.

Arya slept in her childhood room, the place where she could see her father's study from her window. Occasionally, he would look up from whatever he was reading and smile towards her. Those moments had assured her that she was safe in the world, that her parents would always be there.

When they reached her room, Thehrendil stood guard beside her door. He lowered his head and then unsheathed his sword, directing the point firmly to the ground.

Arya could still smell the fresh polish from the mahogany door; nothing had changed about that since she was a child. It reminded her of those moments when she ran inside to craft something to impress her mother. It had been months since she crafted anything; the last thing was a flower brooch for Loriel's birthday with a large diamond in the centre.

Inside, everything was largely untouched, except for the things around her bed that the maids had tidied up. Arya firmly closed the door behind her. Despite it being her old room it was spacious; it had a circulate study desk, a small library of interspersed book cases, a few large wardrobes and a splendid glass case displaying her old sword and leather armour.

Birds chirped on the balcony as they fed on the bread crumbs she had left for them. From up here she could watch the measureless expanse of Du Weldenvarden's forest.

Her eyes were diverted by a loud caw, towards a white raven perched on the window ledge of her father's study. Blagden turned his head to one side and cawed again, this time more loudly. "The hive that once flourished, shall later be extinguished. Old friend, old friend, who then shall be nourished?"

Stepping away from the windows Arya began to strip away all her accoutrements, then began to untie her flowing white dress. She stripped down until all she was wearing was a red slip dress and underpants. In front of the mirror, she assessed herself. After standing there for a short while Arya fell chest-first onto her bed and dozed off.

After what must have been all morning, Arya was aroused by a gentle touch on her right thigh. She turned on her back to see who it was. Loriel stood there smiling with a twinkle in her brown eyes and a slight blush on her cheeks. In her hands she held out a long, green robe. "A bit undressed for duty today," she remarked sarcastically. "Don't tell me you conducted the council meeting in undergarments."

Arya stood up and smiled, then turned her back to Loriel as she helped her into the green robe.

"Even if you did," Loriel said, "at least it will liven up the mood around the throne."

They laughed out loud, then hugged each other. Loriel wore a tight crimson dress, which cut off at her knees, perfectly fitting her strong figure. Her long, flowing blonde hair was tied back in a beautiful three-stranded braid. Even though she was a councillor it was not required of her to attend the morning gatherings as she was too busy managing trade agreements. Arya placed her hands on Loriel's shoulders. "What was it that you wanted to discuss?"

"Maybe we should discuss this while eating berries," Loriel said, pointing to her small basket on the study desk.

Arya sighed. "Bringing berries into official discussion means you have bad news."

"However did you find out?" Loriel remarked in her usual sarcasm. "Ambassador Nelmora couldn't convince Teirm to allow the expansion of new elven docks."

Arya sat back on her bed, drumming her fingers on her knee. Loriel grabbed the berry basket and sat next to her near the edge. "Nelmora," Arya whispered. "She has been there for two months. Those merchants are striving to slow the process down."

"I know."

"I thought we gave them a deal they couldn't refuse."

"That's my fault for telling you that. The merchants want a five percent share of the Silk Pass."

"I'm only willing to allow two."

"I know you wouldn't agree to it. _I_ wouldn't agree with it either. That's why I told Nelmora in advance."

"So do we bring her back? Or, keep negotiating?"

"I'm never the one to back down from a fight. I just needed your approval for my next plan. Berry?"

Arya nodded and grabbed a few berries from the basket, before placing one in her mouth. "Alright, Loriel. What is this plan of yours?"

"It's complicated."

"Of course it is."

Loriel chuckled, tossing a berry into her mouth. "We might have a chance if we provide them with a garrison fleet, at a quarter of the hiring rate, and for only a year. Then half the hiring rate for the next year. It'll allow them to recuperate the ships they lost on the Larson Line."

"It doesn't mean they will agree…"

"Our ships are in the highest demand. It'll certainly give them food for thought. If they're still stubborn after this I'll personally go to Teirm."

Arya chuckled. "They should shake in their boots. Okay, I'll allow your _complicated_ plan."

Loriel nodded confidently. "I won't let you down."

The conversation between them turned light-hearted after that. It mainly revolved around making light jokes about the other councillors. They were some jokes about Orik peppered in there – about the contorted reaction he would have when the elves win the Surda Games again. Having a friend like Loriel made Arya's job a little less stressful.

In the end they were down to the last few berries.

"You should really try and get rid of Blagden," Loriel said, reclining back. "Your mother used to hate that bird."

"My father wouldn't approve getting rid of him. That is why mother kept it. Also, it helped her to remember father."

"Who would have thought blessing a bird with powers makes them the most annoying creatures imaginable."

"Why, what happened?"

"You know the days when Blagden isn't in Tialdari Hall?"

"What does he do?"

"He tries to seek me out. Last week, I was looking forward to sleeping in my hammock under the stars. Then, Blagden appears."

Arya chuckled.

"He starts reciting all these poems. I tried shooting a couple of arrows to scare him off. He stood there like he knew the arrows would not hit him. In fact, he started reciting more loudly."

Arya laughed as she chewed down another berry. Then she remembered the rhyme Blagden spoke of today and her smile faltered.

"Are you feeling alright?" Loriel asked suddenly, reaching her hand out.

"Oh," Arya said, shaking her head, "it's probably nothing."

"This job…it's putting undue stress on you. Everyday I feel it when I see you."

"It's the choice I made Lori."

"I know. But there are ways to mitigate that. You need someone by your side."

"Not this again," Arya stood up. "I told you…"

"Told me what?" Loriel burst out. "That you could live without a companion? It certainly doesn't seem that way. You seem tired Arya..."

Loriel slowly stood up and walked towards her, gently grabbing her hand into hers. "I don't know what promise you made Arya. But…whatever it was, it is destroying you. You can't allow that to happen to you." Loriel then picked up her basket, bowed to her, and left the room.

In the horizon Arya watched the clouds grow, saw the occasional flash of lightning, heard the thunder grow in sound. _I am standing on the precipice of this fragile peace. Your promise has long since faded. The last time you mentioned my true name was more than eight years ago…_

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II – Nelmora

Nelmora meditated aloft the stone balcony, gazing at the web of lights below her. The peaceful view of Teirm at night was truly breathtaking. It made it worth the tumultuous affair of being an ambassador. Rarely could one find two people in Alagaesia within a room that agreed to the same thing. Now put a hundred people and the chaos multiplied to the brink of insanity. Of course, Nelmora always kept her calm demeanor when in dialogue with the humans. However, the unfortunate side of being quiet and patient meant that she became a medium for people to speak over her. If one wanted to be heard they had to match or beat their opponent's voice. She didn't have the capacity for such boisterous acts. She was raised to be civilized.

She breathed in a gentle rhythm and felt her muscles and skin repair, while her day's thoughts filed in her mind. It was truly blissful being suspended to the heavenly elements. This, she realized, was the purest form of freedom. Too bad she could only meditate for six hours before Senthria would tell her that the human nobles wanted to have a meeting.

Only five hours left now. For the rest of the time Nelmora decided that she would gaze towards the sea. That was when she felt the wind cool her skin, the smell of brine enter her nostrils, and the ship bells ring in her ears. Even at night the dock bristled with business, either hauling or loading the ships with people and cargo. A couple of months ago she was fortunate enough to see a ship headed for Drovengard, and even more fortunate was that there was someone she recognized on that ship. They were far from friends but she loved Edenol's work on magical artifacts. Too bad that meeting the author was less enchanting than his books. He was sort of withdrawn from socializing with people and he kept mumbling something incoherent.

Nelmora sighed. She had to stop thinking about people. It was exactly this that disturbed her meditation and she didn't want that. As she refocused her sight and mind, she noticed the revolving beacon in the lighthouse burst blank. For a moment she thought she saw three bodies fall from atop the lighthouse. Her suspicions were confirmed when loud crashes burst onto the cliffs. She, however, kept on meditating. What could she do about those poor folk from up here? Hardly anyone in the citadel would care to lose their sleep over something trivial. Operating a lighthouse was a dangerous job for ungainly humans, and even more so when gusty winds blew all around. Then again, three people fell down all at once? Surely the odds of an accidental synchronized drop were extremely low. Maybe this was one of those strange events that happened every thousands of years.

Nelmora was doing it again. She was thinking about people. For five hours couldn't she _just_ forget about all that? She made a mental note to investigate the lighthouse the next morning if her schedule allowed it. With that done she relaxed.

Storm light cast across the grey ocean – in between, massive shadows blocked out the light. Wait, that couldn't be right. The next storm light sent Nelmora's patience into a plunge. Those shadows were a fleet of frigates approaching the city docks. They were close! In an instant everything she had seen fell together. Someone had deliberately sabotaged the beacon in order to let the fleet come in. This was _way_ beyond an accident. This was deliberate invasion.

The sudden shock threw her body back from the balcony. Good thing she had sharp reflexes, otherwise, she would have landed on her haunches.

She heard scores of men marching outside her door. Were they all guards? Surely the citadel would not have been alerted so soon to the arrival of the hostile fleet.

Nelmora jerked as a group of men kicked in her door. The hinges were sent flying apart, one managing to crack the mirror of the dressing table. These were definitely not guards.

"I demand to know what is going on," Nelmora cried "Who are you?"

The whole citadel was sent into a chaotic fury, with every door kicked down, and screams reverberating through every wall. Nelmora knew there would be more than three deaths tonight. Dead citadel guards were dragged across the hallway, their blood smearing the white marble floor.

The men that kicked in her door spread apart to allow a tall man to enter through. Nelmora couldn't make out his features. In fact she couldn't make out anyone's features, just shadows thrown by the moonlight. These intruders had deliberately put out the sconces in the hallway.

"Ambassador Nelmora," the tall man said, slowly, "you will do well to listen to my clear instructions. My name is Veras and this precious city of Nasuada's majesty is now mine. Please hold my hand, as there is a lot to be done." Even in the darkness, Nelmora could feel Veras smile.


	10. A Trail of Shadows

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A Trail Of Shadows

I – Däthedr

Däthedr — accompanied by Arl and Arlen — rode for Tialdarí Hall. The sky was like ash after a great fire, where the stars remained the last smouldering sparks. After a long ride into the night Tialdarí Hall was in sight, and an agitated crowd gathered behind the wide entrance. It was unusual for a meeting to be held at midnight so they had a right to feel concern.

Wind ruffled the trees, casting haunted shadows that fanned outwards and inwards. The air spoke of bad omens…but it also spoke of secrets. Ever since Däthedr encountered the strange key an eerie voice settled in his mind, luring him to understand what he had seen. However, he cast such thoughts aside and rode onwards. That was when his sight transformed in front of him. Tialdarí Hall did not seem so grim anymore and the wind settled. What sort of power did the key have, that it could manipulate his perception in such a way? At times he felt cold when in reality there was warmth. He smelt smoke when in reality there was fragrance. He saw darkness when in reality there was light.

It was better that no one else knew about this, especially Arl, Arlen and Loriel. This was his curse, a price for being fervent for artifacts. Why throw that burden upon the people he loved? No, when the time was right he would figure this out by himself.

Separated from the crowd, near the garden patio, he noticed Loriel leaning against the trunk of a tree, her hands crossed with her eyes looking in the distance at nothing particular. He met her eyes and felt comfort seep through his heart. She remained the only vestige of his old family, and he came to regard her as his own. She was Irene's daughter, his sister-in-law that had died in battle when Loriel was just one. Däthedr and Loriel were the last strands of a close-knit family that tarnished not long ago.

Loriel wore a sleek white dress with a swooping arc across her torso. She had become a strong young person, honest and unwavering in her affairs. If one made a friend of her they would find within her fierce loyalty, a trait that greatly facilitated her ascension in rank, making her one of Queen Arya's closest advisors.

Däthedr rode up to her then unmounted his saddle. Loriel immediately embraced him. "I missed you," she whispered. He nodded, patting her back. _I have indeed gone for too long_. Afterwards she hugged Arl and Arlen, who were like uncles to her. Arlen had trained her in the Fifth Company as an elite archer, before he became general, while Arl had bestowed upon her knowledge in all things war-related and some even political.

"The situation is grave," Loriel said, walking back from Arl and turning to Däthedr. _The situation in Teirm has troubled her more than usual._ "My friends…they…"

"Who?" Däthedr asked.

"Nelmora and Senthria," Loriel said. "They were in Teirm when it occurred. I asked them to go." She kicked the nearest stone, clenching her jaw.

"This can't be your fault," Däthedr said. "Have all the councillors arrived?"

"They are inside," she said in a low voice.

Däthedr placed his hands on her shoulders. "Keep a firm mind in situations like these."

Loriel shook her head. "I should have gone myself. I was planning to but I didn't."

"Loriel," Däthedr said pointedly. "Nelmora and Senthria know that you are taking care of this. And you have never let them down. I'm sure they feel safe knowing this."

"They won't come to harm," Arlen said. "Do not worry child."

That seemed to assuage Loriel's concern, somewhat. She even managed a slight smile. "May the stars guide you," she said.

They walked towards the crowd who cheered upon seeing Däthedr, Arl and Arlen. No doubt the news of the Elven Legion's numerous victories had jubilated them. "The heroes of the Mage Rebellion!" "Our pride and strength. The stars have blessed us!"

Däthedr waved at them dismissively, as guards signalled for the crowd to part. He hurried inside the rotunda. The place was as majestic as he remembered it. It certainly was as busy. The councillors were engaged in loud conversation, as scribes furiously jotted down statements while guards remained on vigilant stand. Attendants ran haphazardly around the hall, making sure everyone remained comfortable. Then dead, cold silence, as everyone noticed Däthedr's presence. Of course he was not surprised. _Popularity among the people turns politicians suspicious._ It was a rule he lived by and so far it had not failed him.

"May I have the honour of greeting our heroes?" Councillor Arinor said aloud, breaking the silence. The rest of the councillors took this queue and resumed their loud conversations.

Däthedr smiled at Arinor, hiding his displeasure at having to speak with him. They exchanged the elven greeting, then Arinor greeted Arl and Arlen with the same enthusiasm before turning his eyes towards Loriel.

"Loriel, you are growing more beautiful by the day."

She raised her brow, hardly flattered. "As you are growing confident. I heard you asked the Queen to reclaim Ilirea for the elves. Again."

Just in time the doors to the throne chamber spread apart. "The Queen is here," Däthedr said.

"May the stars guide us all," Arinor said, turning from Loriel to Däthedr. "I will agree to rescuing only our people. I don't care for the rest of Teirm. That is Nasuada's concern."

 _You are not the one making the decision._ Däthedr thought it better to express his thoughts for the throne room, rather than now. He merely nodded. Arinor bowed curtly then joined up with his supporters. The opposition had come in full strength tonight. They included Councillor Amrika, Councillor Indarin, Councillor Nylvari, Councillor Seldorin, Councillor Galmathur, and lastly Councillor Felmrond. All of them had served under Queen Islanzadí as supporters. It was ironic that they were now opposing the former Queen's daughter. It made him wonder if Islanzadí herself would have supported her daughter's decisions over the last ten years.

"I will join you shortly," Däthedr said to Loriel. She gave a perfunctory nod and left for the throne chamber.

"Send a missive to Faelyn and Elion," Däthedr told Arl and Arlen "Tell them to gather a hundred of their most veteran soldiers. We will discuss the details tonight. I want a company marching as soon as possible."

"You will join us, surely?" Arlen asked.

"There is some personal business I have to attend." _I cannot lead soldiers with this curse over me._

"I understand," Arl said. "We will meet you outside Ellesméra at the Alryne army camp."

"Make sure the list of the soldiers is written up before this meeting concludes."

They bid their farewells and promptly left the Hall. There was not even a shred of doubt about Arl and Arlen's capabilities with this situation. They had achieved so much on campaigns together.

Entering the throne chamber his thoughts drifted to the meeting at hand. The throne was scented with subtle fragrances and lit with orbs of light hovering over tree branches. Above, one could clearly see the night sky with its countless stars.

Queen Arya sat resolutely at the throne, wearing her most formal attire; a sweeping white dress with a golden cloak tied to her neck. _It seems the news at Teirm has not perturbed her._ He smiled at that. _Evandar, my friend, if only you could have seen your daughter grow into what she is now._ The Queen met Däthedr's gaze and smiled at him, a moment between old friends, before Ambassador Vanir engaged her in quiet conversation.

The whole chamber echoed in murmurs. Arya gestured with a wave of her hand and all attendants and scribes left the chamber. Däthedr took his seat around the wide, round table, close to the Queen. It was made of cool marble stone and had survived all the previous elven rulers. To have a position on this table was the highest honour for an elf.

Loriel sat to Däthedr's left while Ambassador Vanir rushed to take a seat to his right. Then arrived Councillor Talvinus, who sat beside Loriel. "I apologise for my tardiness," Talvinus said.

"You are on time," Vanir remarked.

"Excellent."

The chamber was bolted shut, killing the murmurs down with it. Queen Arya extended the elven greeting then began her opening remark. "Dear councillors and Ambassador Vanir, I do not need to explain how grave this situation is. Therefore, I ask that we stifle our opposing views on political matters and find a solution to this predicament quickly." There were nods around the room before she gestured for Vanir to take the floor.

"Thank you my queen," Vanir said, then cleared his throat. "So far, our scouts have reported nothing from Teirm. We only know what was told to us by Ambassador Senthria. Also, Veras had contacted me shortly after, but he betrayed nothing of importance — just demands. But I will get to that later."

"Last we heard of Veras is that he was marooned on Beirland," Councillor Nylvari spoke. " _Now_ he is in control of Teirm with a fleet?"

Däthedr was perplexed himself. How could Veras manage something like this and no one have any knowledge of it? _Fleets don't roam freely without being noticed._ The truth was it was impossible. The rebellion had people working within Nasuada's ranks.

"Without any concrete information," Vanir answered, "I cannot say how Veras managed it."

"And we will not have you speculate," Arya said. "Please continue, ambassador."

"Thank you, my queen," Vanir said. "Veras demands the Elven Legion to disband, that Queen Nasuada steps down from the Council of Eüdh, and the rebellion be given an independent country with Ilirea as its capital."

This caused some to snicker, as the demands were obviously outlandish. But Däthedr noticed the sort of game Veras was playing, saw the tactics within the bluffs.

"Veras is smart," Däthedr said.

Everyone regarded him with frowns, even Loriel could not help but mirror the crowd.

"How so?" Queen Arya asked.

"He mentioned the Elven Legion, the Council of Eüdh and Ilirea — three things that are most debated within these council meetings. The Empire will answer on Ilirea stating that it rightly belongs to them. However, half of your council here will dispute the Empire — you'll say that it rightly belongs to the elves. This is just one scenario among many that could happen. His hope is that we give conflicted responses to his demands. That will only seek to undermine our alliance with Queen Nasuada. If successful, Veras will strike a major blow to her without unsheathing his sword."

Arinor stood. "I will not have this situation manipulated for political gain. There is a legitimate claim on Ilirea, and to mask this as some sort of weakness that Veras is exploiting — I don't believe it for a moment. I would like to bring forth some strategy on the matter rather than discuss baseless conspiracies."

Loriel made an attempt to stand but Däthedr put his hand on her shoulder. "Be patient," Däthedr whispered to her. "Let us hear his strategy, then we'll dismantle it."

Loriel could barely hide her irritation, but nonetheless complied with a sigh and then sat back down. _In due time she would learn to better time her retorts in council._

Arinor continued. "It is within the _interest_ of the elves that we free only our own people. Let Queen Nasuada handle Veras since Teirm is her business." His supporters nodded. Speeches like these showed how naïve Arinor really was, however to many he was one of the wisest individuals, having previously served under Queen Dellanir, King Evandar and Queen Islanzadí.

"On what grounds Councillor Arinor," Arya said, "do you propose this strategy?"

"My Queen the Mage Rebellion nearly destroyed the Elven Legion. Every skirmish after that dwindles our military capacity."

To that Däthedr stood up. "I am the true judge of that Councillor Arinor." Arinor sat back down and Däthedr continued. "It is true we lost quite a lot of our forces in the Mage Rebellion. But now we barely lose a single soldier. The Elven Legion is the most effective military force, and our capacity increases by the day."

"I am inclined to take the Field Marshal's word on this," Arya said, nodding in Däthedr's direction. "How should we handle this Däthedr?"

"As we speak General Arl and General Arlen are gathering a hundred of our best soldiers. This small company will be ordered to sneak into Teirm and sabotage Veras's operations. After that they either free everyone in the city or just our own. The latter will change our political situation dramatically."

"Please elaborate on that point Field Marshal Däthedr," Councillor Nylvari said out loud.

Loriel leaned up to his ear. "May I answer that?"

Däthedr smiled. "I will ask Councillor Loriel to elaborate on my behalf." He then sat back down. _If anyone can handle Nylvari it is Loriel._

Loriel spoke. "If Queen Nasuada finds out that we sent soldiers in her city without informing her it will shatter our alliance."

"The Legion are quite efficient at covering their tracks," Nylvari retorted. "Am I correct councillor?"

"You are."

"Then Nasuada will not find out."

"That is where you are wrong Councillor Nylvari," Queen Arya interrupted. "I had told Queen Nasuada moments ago about our situation in Teirm. Loriel is right. Nasuada will expect us to free every person that is within Veras's grasp, if we are to keep the mutual trust between humans and elves."

Nylvari's eyes slightly widened at that; for the briefest moment she showed surprise before it was replaced by a calm façade with which she sat back down.

"Thank you, my Queen," Loriel said, bowing her head then sitting back down. She couldn't help but sneak in a smile, even though she was truly terrified by the shaking of her hand. Everyone else on Däthedr's side smiled too, even Talvinus who usually was impassive. Vanir tapped Däthedr's shoulders. "You raised Loriel well."

Arinor then shot up from his seat. "My Queen, may I speak freely?"

"You may," Arya said.

"My Queen, you have made a mistake in consulting Queen Nasuada before us," Arinor said.

"Have I? If word reaches me that one of her cities has been overwhelmed do I not tell her at once?"

"We are here to give you advice. By tradition the queen talks with her council before anyone else."

"It is also tradition that the queen can decide if she needs the council's advice. Please, do not think to tell me what my duties are. I am perfectly in the know about that." _Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. Arya is playing Arinor like a fine instrument_.

Councillor Seldorin, sitting to the left of Arinor gestured for him to sit back down. Arinor hesitated at first but then nodded and did what he was asked. Seldorin then stood up to speak. "Queen Arya, while you show common decency to your allies, they do not show it back. Queen Nasuada expands her cities, amasses power, and exploits the wealth of the land, knowing that we will provide her military favors. We always pay the price for her ambitions. This is an opportunity to make a stand, to let her know that our support comes with conditions. Let us save only our own people. This will give Nasuada a message that if she wants our help she should not mismanage her empire, and that we will not provide forces every time to clean up her mess. In your eyes you might see this as weakening the alliance but I see it as strengthening it."

Seldorin never failed to impress anyone with his oratory skills. Däthedr had come close to getting his support but Arinor came in at the last moment and convinced Seldorin to stay on his side. _It is truly unfortunate that Seldorin and I are at odds_.

"Ten years ago we signed the Legionnaire Initiative," Arya said, tapping two of her fingers on her armrest, "where it stated that Du Weldenvarden will provide five hundred elves to keep the peace in Alagaesia. Until that treaty is expired, there will be no more disagreements with our military policy."

"We have to put more conditions in that treaty," Seldorin retorted.

"Your complaint is noted, councillor. That, however, is a discussion for another time. Right now the only thing left to discuss is how we should handle Veras. My opinion is that we should kill him."

A grim silence settled over the room. Loriel crossed her hands in a fist and rested her chin atop it. She looked at Däthedr and shook her head slowly, indicating to him that she did not know if killing Veras would be a wise path to choose. Slowly everyone in the room began to look at him, to see if he agreed or not. _Killing someone so influential could have untold consequences. It could cause another war._

"My Queen," Däthedr said, looking down and without standing up. "I think it more wise that we apprehend Veras."

"He slipped our grasp numerous times," Arya retorted. "It was precisely because we wanted to capture him that gave him time to slip away."

"I know, my queen. However, Veras is more valuable to us alive. He knows all the secrets about the other rebellions in the land. By reading his memories, once we capture him, we could finally gain a step ahead of the rebels. But by killing him it will embolden the rebels to unite and start another war, and this time it will cripple us even greater."

"I agree with Däthedr on this one," Arinor spoke. No one in the room seemed to want to object Däthedr. He noticed Queen Arya shake her head slightly as she closed her eyes in thought.

"I don't want him to slip again," Arya said slowly, with anger in her eyes.

"I will have a plan that will make sure he doesn't, my queen. For years I have been studying his moves and I am certain that I have discovered a weakness."

Arya opened her eyes. The doubt in her expression didn't leave her. _I had reassured her before when Veras attacked The Spine._

"Would you like to share this weakness?" Arya asked.

"We have always responded to Veras by calling a large army against him. He always manages to escape when that army arrives."

"Are you suggesting we don't send an army to Teirm?"

"No we should, my queen. If we do not, Veras will indeed suspect that we are sending assassins against him. I suggest, separate to the army, we send at least ten of our best mages a day ahead. They will make sure to apprehend Veras silently and swiftly. When the army reaches the next day they will confront the rebels, and it would come as a surprise because they will find Veras missing, and not have a leader to command them."

Arya leaned back against her throne and looked down, while massaging the front of her temple with her right thumb and forefinger. It seemed she would be silent forever, but after a while she nodded slowly and leaned forward. "This is indeed a sound plan, and I am putting the success of it in your capable hands. May the stars guide you. This meeting is now concluded."

Däthedr looked over to Loriel, who had tears brimming in her eyes. _She is scared for her friends._ He came over, gently lifted her from under her shoulders, and took her into a hug. "Everything will be okay, dear Loriel, " he whispered with as firm a voice he could manage.

"You cannot promise that," Loriel said, her voice shaking. "I want this to be over soon. I don't want to lose any more people I love."

He held her tighter. _She is right. I cannot promise her that. The promise that everything shall be fine is the promise most broken._

####

"Surely you must come with us," Faelyn said, trying to meet Däthedr's eyes. "Nelmora is like a daughter to us all. You cannot abandon her."

Däthedr kept his eyes trained on the flickering candle in the middle of the table, disappointed. _This curse could not have come at a worse time._

To his right sat Arl and to his left sat Arlen, while in front of him sat Faelyn and Elion close together. It was quiet, but Däthedr was sure he could hear whispers calling his name. _Is that you Tamri?_ Then the whispers faded away. He could smell rotten flesh. Shadows cast by the moonlight over the tent grew and dwindled, as if trying to shape into something. He knew this was impossible and that his perception was being manipulated by the key's curse.

"Remember when I became the head of this army?" Däthedr said, looking away from the shadows. "I stated that if I felt I was incapable of commanding I would responsibly hand it over to one of you."

"Wait," Arlen said. "You are not stepping down as Field Marshal are you?"

"No," Däthedr responded. "But at this point I am not able to issue sound commands on the field. We know the plan and Arlen is the most capable among us."

"What is my duty then?" Elion asked, frowning curiously. Loriel, long ago, had once japed that Elion should be demoted, because he was too handsome to be taken seriously as a general. _I mean look at him Däthedr, perfectly tall and svelte, always formal and upright. His large blue eyes and gorgeous black hair should alone be grounds to demote him. Our enemies would probably ask him out to dinner than meet him on the battlefield._ Of course she was just joking back then, but it was also clear that Loriel wanted to have Elion all to herself.

"You will not be going to Teirm," Däthedr told Elion.

Elion leaned back, clearly hurt. "Is it because I am not as experienced among you?" Elion asked, turning to look at everyone around the table. "I always feel I am getting the lesser jobs, and -"

"You are getting the most important job," Däthedr interrupted.

"Oh?" Elion managed to say, who now seemed afraid of what he was going to be tasked with.

Däthedr continued. "You will organize and lead the company that will escort our Queen to Surda."

The blood from Elion's face drained away. He gulped, then gave a surprised laugh as if he was expecting Däthedr to tell him it was only in jest. _That is how I reacted when Evandar promoted me as his closest advisor_. Elion stood up, walked over to Däthedr, and extended his right hand. Däthedr leaned over and shook it.

"This is the greatest honor of my life," Elion said, his smile widening. "Thank you."

"You deserve it," Däthedr said.

"The Queen? I cannot believe this."

"Believe it, Elion," Arl said, "when you know the responsibilities required. Most days I couldn't rest, because a job like this takes a lot out of you."

"I do not know if I am even ready."

"Many people are not on the first day," Arl said. "But it is not you that grooms into the job. The job grooms into you. Now hurry, and tell your family about it. I am sure Gêrald will be proud to hear it."

"I am sure my father will. And…" Elion's expression turned serious. "I hope that your mission is successful. I really do."

"Thank you," Arl and Arlen both said together.

"May the stars guide you all." Elion bowed and left the tent.

After a brief silence Däthedr then spoke. "We cannot waste time. Leave with the company tonight." Arl and Arlen stood up together, followed by Faelyn.

"We have gained and lost many things along this journey," Däthedr said before he stood up. "And throughout it, it was always my honour to lead individuals as talented as you. But it is a greater honour to see you lead yourself."

He hugged Arl and Arlen who had been his childhood friends in Sílthrim, and who had nearly lost their lives to save him from the ambush at Farthen Dûr eight years ago. Arl put his hand on Däthedr's shoulders. "I wish you could tell us what is troubling you Däthedr."

Däthedr placed his hand atop Arl's hand on his shoulder and smiled. "In due time I will. But first I must deal with it."

"I will not disappoint you," Arlen said. "I will definitely make sure to lord over my brother with this position."

Arl shook his head while Däthedr laughed.

Däthedr then greeted Faelyn, who for fifty years mentored Däthedr in the art of the ancient language, and now he was the most powerful mage in Alagaesia.

"Make sure Veras doesn't escape this time," Däthedr told Faelyn. "You will be the one to strike the first blow."

Faelyn nodded. "May the stars guide you, Däthedr."

With that everyone left the tent and rode off to meet the company that had gathered ten leagues west of Ellesméra.

Däthedr closed his eyes and let the vision draw out in his mind again. He needed to be sure that the hills around the town in his vision were identical to the hills on the map he had looked over showing the outskirts of Aroughs. He had studied every map of Alagaesia since he encountered the vision but none showed that mysterious town ever existing. He found that studying the location of the town against the maps was his best chance of finding that town, and hopefully getting answers. He was sure the hills around Aroughs was where he needed to go to find this town. _And then can I rid myself of this..._

He left the tent and waited for his personal guard to arrive. He heard the soft hooves of a horse digging into mud and turned to look in the direction of the sound. Appearing from behind a large boulder Kavír arrived riding atop Däthedr's pearl-white horse.

"Excellent timing," Däthedr said as Kavír unmounted next to him.

"I made sure to pack everything you need," Kavír said, handing over the reins. "You will find enough water to last you three weeks and food to last you two weeks."

"What about coins?" Däthedr asked.

Kavír chuckled. "There are enough coins in there to buy several estates."

"I hope you didn't take every coin from my house. Loriel needs those."

"No, sir."

"Excellent work, Kavír." Däthedr mounted his horse and checked over all the supplies carefully before he was satisfied. He began to ride but then stopped and turned back to Kavír. "Kavír, it will be best that you not tell Loriel about his. I will see you in Surda."

"My lord," Kavír said. "I wish to come with you, to guard you as I have always done."

"Not this time, Kavír. Some battles must be fought alone."

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Response to the Readers

 **Elemental Dragon Slayer** : Hey! Thanks for your review, I really appreciate your support. In regards to Eragon and Arya, because I have to first establish the story and not force the relationship, it will take longer than other fanfics but I promise it will be worth your wait. But I am cool with hearing everyone's opinion about this.

 **Pokeevee57** : Hi! You have not seen anything yet my friend ;).

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Thank you for your support everyone. If you like this story please review it :). More chapters are coming soon.


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